Chapter 1: The First Possession
Arjun sighed as he stepped off the crowded metro and into the sweltering streets of Delhi. It was 2025, and despite the growing economy, life as a middle-class man in India wasn't easy. Rent was high, jobs were scarce, and dreams of breaking out of the cycle seemed distant. He adjusted his backpack and made his way through the bustling street market toward his small one-bedroom apartment.
Life was predictable—wake up, work, struggle, repeat. But today, fate had other plans.
As he walked past an old electronics shop, a flickering neon sign caught his attention: CLOSING SALE – EVERYTHING MUST GO. Curious, Arjun stepped inside. The dusty shop smelled of rust and forgotten memories. Old TVs, broken radios, and obsolete gaming consoles lay scattered across the dimly lit shelves.
An elderly shopkeeper sat behind the counter, barely acknowledging him. Arjun absentmindedly browsed the shelves until his eyes landed on something unusual—a sleek, black gaming console with no branding, no labels, just a single power button.
"How much for this?" Arjun asked.
The shopkeeper looked up, his eyes narrowing. "That? Take it for free. Just don't blame me for what happens."
Arjun raised an eyebrow. Was this some kind of prank? But hey, free was free.
He grabbed the console, thanked the old man, and hurried home.
In his house, Arjun plugged in the console. The screen flickered, displaying a cryptic message:
"WELCOME, PLAYER. PREPARE TO REWRITE YOUR LEGACY."
A chill ran down his spine. The game's interface resembled a family tree—his family tree. At the very top was a name he recognized from old family stories: Veerendra Pratap Sharma (1948).
A new prompt appeared:
"Select an ancestor to modify."
His pulse quickened. Was this some kind of elaborate simulation? He hesitated before clicking on Veerendra Pratap Sharma's name. Suddenly, the screen glowed, his vision blurred, and the world around him melted away.
Veerendra Pratap Sharma blinked as he adjusted to the golden hue of the morning sun filtering through the small windows of his ancestral home in Lucknow. The scent of fresh parathas filled the air, but he wasn't focused on breakfast.
He was still trying to grasp what had happened. One moment, he was in his tiny, rented apartment in Delhi, struggling with job rejections. The next, he was here—in the past—wearing clothes that didn't belong to him, inhabiting a body that wasn't his own.
Arjun, now inside Veerendra, felt his hands shake.
This is real.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He had read countless stories about time travel but experiencing it firsthand was an entirely different sensation. The fabric of the kurta on his skin, the faint sound of a radio playing outside, and the voices of people speaking in old Hindi dialects—all of it confirmed his new reality.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door. A young girl entered; her eyes filled with concern.
"Veerendra Bhaiya, Baba is calling you. The meeting with the landlords is about to begin."
Arjun's mind raced. Baba? Did she mean his great-grandfather? He struggled to recall what little he knew about his family's past. If he was here, he needed to act fast and figure out the power he wielded.
The girl, who must have been his younger sister, stared at him curiously. "Bhaiya? Are you feeling alright?"
Arjun nodded slowly. "Yes… I just had a strange dream."
She smiled. "That's because you slept in too much! Come quickly before Baba scolds you."
As he followed her down the hallway, Arjun mentally prepared himself. This was his chance. His ancestor's fate was now in his hands, and through him, he would reshape the destiny of the Sharma family.
When he stepped into the meeting room, a group of influential landlords sat before his father. Veerendra's father, a stern but calculating man, glanced at him before addressing the room.
"Gentlemen, my son will be joining us. I believe he has a keen vision for the future."
Arjun straightened his back. This was it—the first step towards building his empire.
And he wouldn't waste it.