CHAPTER 42

Munni had never known what a father's voice sounded like. Or how a mother's hand felt when it fixed your hair in the morning.

Her earliest memories were of cold nights on footpaths, the sound of traffic, the stink of sweat, sewage, and frying food. She remembered begging on Marine Drive, small palms stretched out under Mumbai's harsh sun, sometimes getting slapped away by drivers who didn't want their windows smudged.

She never cried much, not because she was strong—but because she'd learned early that tears didn't change anything.

Raja was all she had. Her brother. He wasn't perfect, but he tried. He shielded her when men tried to grab her wrist. He stole food when she was too hungry to stand. They survived like rats—small, unnoticed, running between the cracks of the city.

But then there was that day on the beach.

She remembered it clearly because it was different.

She'd spotted him first—Veer—sitting alone, staring at the ocean like some weird hero from a movie. He wasn't doing the usual things people did. No phone scrolling. No showing off for girls. Just… staring. Calm, like he had all the time in the world.

At first, she thought he was crazy. Who sits like that in this city?

But there was something about him. A strange aura. Not like a don or a cop or a priest. Something else. Like he was watching the whole world but not really part of it.

And then, somehow, he noticed her.

He didn't shoo her away. Didn't give her pity coins. Instead, he asked her questions—real ones. About where she lived, what she ate, how she kept herself safe. He listened.

No one ever listened to Munni before.

After that day, he kept coming back. Not every day, but often enough that she started to expect him. And when she introduced Raja, everything changed faster.

.....

TRUST IS NOT CHEAP

For as long as Raja could remember, it was just him and Munni.

When their parents died—if you could call it that, since they were never really present to begin with—Raja learned the city's rules the hard way.

Rule one: no one helps for free.

Every "gift" came with a catch. Every handout had strings. If you got food, someone wanted something in return. Protection? That cost your dignity. Money? That meant you were owned.

So when Veer showed up, Raja's first instinct was suspicion.

But the guy didn't ask for anything. He didn't lecture them like NGO workers. He just… hung out sometimes. Shared food. Watched their back.

And then, the most surprising part: Veer started helping strangers too.

Once, when they were out scouting for information near Kurla station, Veer saw a drunk man harassing a woman by the chai stall. Without thinking twice, he stepped in—not with loud threats, but cool, controlled moves. Just enough to defuse it without drawing too much heat.

Another time, in the boiling afternoon heat, he helped an old uncle find an auto near Sion Hospital. No cameras. No social media flex. He just did it and moved on.

Raja couldn't wrap his head around that.

So one day, he asked.

"Why are you helping us, Veer? What's in it for you?"

Veer grinned, pushing his messy hair back like some movie hero.

"Well, my friend," Veer said, "I didn't want to help you, exactly. But I met a character I grew up watching, and I figured—why not change their life? Or have some fun messing up the story a little?"

Raja blinked, confused.

"I… don't get any of that. But thanks, bhai."

Veer laughed, tapping Raja's shoulder.

"Exactly! That's why I'm telling you—you won't understand. First rule of transmigrators is: you don't talk about ........ Wait—does that club exist in this world?"

Raja had no clue what he was talking about, but somehow, it didn't matter.

For the first time in his life, he saw someone helping without expecting him to pay in pain or loyalty.

And in a world that chewed people up and spat them out, that felt… rare.

Like a miracle.

Or maybe just a brother they didn't ask for but desperately needed.

.................................

Veer was curled up on the couch at home, eyes scanning through the dense pages of a thick book on psychology. The room was quiet except for the faint rustle of turning pages. Suddenly, a soft buzz interrupted the calm. His phone vibrated on the wooden table beside him. But this wasn't the phone he used for casual chats or family calls — this was his burner phone, the one he kept exclusively for messages from Raja.

Veer's fingers moved quickly, unlocking the device. The screen displayed a single, cryptic message:

"I found a chance."

Just three words, but weighted with meaning. Veer's mind raced. Eliminating Dilip Topi had been their toughest challenge yet — a knot so tangled they hadn't found a way through. Yet here was Raja, dropping a hint that the impossible might finally be within reach.

Night settled in like a cloak outside, and a while later, Veer met Raja at their usual hideout — a quiet alley behind a bustling street, where shadows masked their conversations.

Raja's eyes gleamed with cautious excitement. "I've got something," he said, lowering his voice. "Big deal about to go down. Dilip's involved, but also some major gangster nobody really talks about. This guy's moving a huge shipment through areas Dilip controls."

Veer leaned in. "What's the product? Drugs? Laundered money?"

Raja shook his head. "Don't know exactly. Too risky to ask around. But whatever it is, it's huge. If we disrupt this, we can hit Dilip where it hurts — and take down the big gangster too."

Veer's mind raced through possibilities, weighing risks and rewards. This could be the break they'd been waiting for, or a trap set to finish them off.

But one thing was certain: their game had just changed.