South Block, New Delhi – Late Afternoon
The iron gates of South Block creaked open as Aryan Dev walked barefoot up the steps. His robe shifted gently with the Delhi breeze, and behind him Ravi trudged in jeans and a kurta, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Could've at least given us a car with AC," Ravi muttered.
Aryan didn't respond. His eyes were on the sandstone building ahead—the heart of Indian power. Men in black suits tracked them from a distance, hands brushing earpieces.
Inside, they were led through corridors polished like glass. The silence was thick.
A young officer whispered to Ravi, "You're being treated like foreign dignitaries. Most ministers wait months to meet him."
Ravi gave a nervous laugh. "That's not reassuring."
---
Prime Minister's Office – Private Chamber
The Prime Minister stood when Aryan entered. No aides. No guards. Just two cups of tea already poured.
He gestured to the seat opposite him. "Please."
Aryan sat without hesitation. Ravi stood behind him, arms crossed. The PM studied Aryan for a long moment.
"The world is watching you," he said finally. "That means we have no choice but to watch you harder."
Aryan gave a small nod. "Watching is not the same as understanding."
The PM smiled faintly. "True."
He took a sip of tea, then leaned forward. "You've done what our systems couldn't. Predicted a flood. Saved lives. Exposed gaps. But this level of precision… of instinct—it makes some uneasy. You've drawn eyes from Washington. Beijing. Others we don't name in public."
He paused.
"In this country's history, men like you—who knew too much, too soon—were not always protected. Some were forgotten. Others… punished. Not by enemies. By our own fear."
Aryan looked into his eyes. "I know."
"That's why I'm offering protection. A special research grant. Full lab facilities under national cover. Discretion. Safety."
Aryan smiled. "I already have a lab. It's called Earth."
The PM raised an eyebrow.
"I love this country. As I love the planet. But flags are drawn by power. I serve life."
The PM said nothing for a long time. The steam from his tea curled like smoke.
"That may not save you," he said finally, "from people who need someone to blame when power shifts."
Aryan nodded slowly. "Then let them blame. While I heal."
---
U.S. Embassy, Chanakyapuri – Same Evening
A sleek black car pulled into the embassy gate. Inside sat Ravi, visibly tense, and across from him a smiling tech attaché named Rachel Monroe.
"We've been watching your work with great admiration," she said warmly. "India should be proud of you both. But let me ask—have you considered expanding? Harvard has a program on predictive climatology. Full scholarship. Lab. Autonomy."
Ravi blinked. "Harvard?"
She leaned in. "You wouldn't be defecting. Just collaborating. Aryan's satellite has sparked global interest. With the right environment, you could both go further—faster."
"We won't leave," Ravi said.
"Is it loyalty? Fear? Or him?" she asked.
Ravi was quiet. Then: "He's not perfect. But he's the reason I believe this country has a future. If we lose him, we lose more than data."
She sat back, disappointed.
Ravi stood. "Tell your people this: we don't need another flag. We need to finish what we started."
As he exited, Aryan was already waiting by the gate.
"You said no?" Aryan asked.
"Nearly said yes. But then I remembered something my father told me—India will rise only when her sons stop running."
Aryan nodded. No more needed to be said.
---
South Block Gate – Night
The gates of South Block closed behind them. Aryan stepped into the cool air. The moon hung low, heavy.
A shadow separated from the darkness—a man in a simple black suit.
"Sir," he said quietly. "I've been assigned to accompany you. The Prime Minister insists."
Aryan looked at the man. "To guard me? Or to watch me?"
"Both, sir."
Aryan gave him a faint smile. "Then walk behind. I prefer my thoughts in front."
As they walked into the night, Ravi looked up at the stars.
"Feels like the circle's closing, boss."
Aryan didn't stop walking. "Good. Now we'll know who's really inside it."