Before Meher could ask another question or respond to Caustav's cryptic comment, a voice interrupted from behind.
"I'll escort the young master."
It was Vedant.
Silent. Imposing. As usual.
He stepped between them with precise control, barely sparing Caustav a glance. Meher frowned. He had just seen Vedant step inside the office with Caustav. Yet here he was, calm and composed, as though he'd never left the hallway.
"Director Agrasen has summoned you to the forty-ninth floor," Vedant added, eyes fixed ahead.
Meher blinked. "Forty-nine? I thought—"
But Vedant cut him off. "He's waiting."
Caustav smirked. "What a shame, Meher. Guess you'll miss my company."
He brushed past Meher deliberately close, warm breath against his cheek.
A wink.
Then he turned and strolled down the hallway, Vedant following him with soundless steps.
Meher stood there, confused and cold.
Something wasn't right.
The elevator hummed as it climbed.
Ding.
Floor 35.
Ding.
Floor 38.
Meher's reflection in the metal doors began to blur. Sweat beaded at his temples. The walls pulsed like veins. His stomach twisted, and then—
—the lights flickered.
He blinked. The elevator floor swam beneath him.
Suddenly, the walls were not metal.
They were white.
White tile. Steel drain. One chair.
Exactly like the video.
His breath caught. Something was crawling behind his eyes.
And then, a soft, steady voice:
"Hey. Are you alright?"
Meher jerked, the vision snapping. The elevator was normal again.
Standing next to him was a tall employee he hadn't noticed before. Light brown hair brushed his collarbones. Skin pale and almost translucent. And those pink eyes—unusual, soft, curious.
"You looked dizzy," the man said, concerned. "Did you eat this morning?"
Meher blinked again. The stranger's face was painfully symmetrical, bones sculpted and fragile like blown glass. His body was tall and lean, waist twisting with dancer-like motion even as he stood still.
"I'm Ekagrah," he said, offering a hand. "Archival Department."
Meher nodded, taking it warily. "Meher. Executive Security."
Ekagrah's grip was surprisingly warm. "You're going to the forty-ninth?"
"Yeah. Director summoned me."
Ekagrah tilted his head. "That's… strange. He never calls anyone up there personally."
Before Meher could respond, the elevator dinged.
Floor 49.
The doors opened into a sterile, dimly lit hallway.
Ekagrah smiled faintly. "Be careful up here."
He stepped out with Meher, leading the way to the large hallway junction—and then "accidentally" dropped a black folder from under his arm.
Papers spilled.
"Ah—sorry," he said, crouching.
Meher crouched too, helping him gather them.
But one file had skidded aside.
A dark blue folder with a single word in silver print.
"Restricted Section"
Ekagrah didn't even glance at it. He gathered the rest of the papers, smiled at Meher again—too sweetly, too deliberately—and then walked away.
Meher frowned. "Hey—you dropped—"
But Ekagrah was already turning the corner. Gone.
The file was still in Meher's hand.
Heart pounding, Meher turned it over.
No seals. No locks.
He opened it.
The instant the folder spread open, a low hiss echoed in his ears.
"Restricted…"
He blinked.
The hallway around him felt… slanted.
The shadows grew longer. He felt like he was sinking.
His body moved on its own.
Walking.
One step.Another.Another.
He didn't even register that his feet had taken him past the last authorized corridor.
The silver plate on the wall ahead read:
"RESTRICTED – FLOOR 49 EAST WING"
He kept walking.
Until—
"Meher."
A hand gripped his shoulder.
Meher spun around violently, heart pounding out of his chest.
Vedant stood there.
His expression was hard, eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing here?"
Meher was panting. "You—You told me to come here! You said the director summoned me—"
Vedant's jaw tightened. "I've been in the washroom. I just came back."
"What?"
Meher took a step back.
He remembered the firm voice. Vedant's posture. The same cold gaze.
So who the hell had spoken to him earlier?
Vedant looked him over sharply. "Why aren't you with young master Caustav?"
"You told me you'd escort him—"
"I never said that."
Meher stared at him.
"…Then who did?"
The hallway was silent.
The lights flickered once.
Vedant's hand slowly released Meher's shoulder, and he looked past him—toward the Restricted Section doors.
"Let's go," he said finally. "You're not cleared to be here."
Meher didn't speak as they returned down the elevator. His heart was hammering in his throat, but the file clutched in his hand was burning a hole in his mind.
Vedant didn't ask about it.
Didn't look at it.
Didn't say anything more.
But as they reached the lobby, Meher glanced over.
And saw Vedant's eyes flick…once…toward the folder.