Chapter 3: The Impossible Witness

The rain had started again, drumming softly against the city's glass towers as Detective Aryan Nagtilak sat in his car, staring at the chess piece in his hand. The black knight, smeared with dried blood, felt heavier than it should. A message left behind by a ghost.

Aryan had spent his career hunting killers, but this one? This one was hunting him back.

His mind replayed the transcript of Rajat's final phone call.

"The detective… But he isn't real."

What the hell did that mean?

Renu's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She was in the passenger seat, eyes glued to her laptop. "You're going to want to see this."

Aryan glanced at the screen. It was a recovered security footage file from Rajat's penthouse.

It was time-stamped 11:49 PM.

Over an hour after Rajat had already been declared dead.

And yet, there on the screen, clear as day, stood Aryan himself.

A Dead Man's Final Moments

Aryan felt a sharp chill run through him.

The figure in the footage was unmistakable—his height, his build, his black trench coat. Even his face was identical.

His own voice came through the grainy audio.

"You should have played by the rules, Rajat."

Then, as if responding to some unseen presence, Rajat turned and started pleading. "I didn't know—I swear, I didn't know!"

The Aryan in the video took a step closer.

"You did. And now it's over."

Then—static.

The footage cut out.

Aryan's grip on the steering wheel tightened. His pulse hammered in his ears.

"That's not me," he muttered.

Renu exhaled slowly, watching him. "I know. But whoever this is—" she tapped the screen, "—they want people to think it is."

Framed by a Ghost

Aryan's phone rang. It was Commissioner Rawat.

"Detective," the old man's voice was gravelly. "You need to get to the precinct. Now."

Aryan already knew what was coming. He could feel the noose tightening.

"They're going to pull me off the case, aren't they?" he said flatly.

Rawat hesitated. "Come in. We'll talk."

Aryan ended the call.

Renu frowned. "They think you—"

"They don't know what to think," Aryan said, starting the car. His tone was calm, but his mind was racing.

Someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to stage this. The killer hadn't just framed him—they had become him.

And if Aryan didn't figure out how, fast—he'd be the next one in a body bag.

Internal Affairs Moves In

By the time Aryan walked into Mumbai Police Headquarters, the place was buzzing. Every detective, officer, and bureaucrat in the building had already heard the rumors.

Renu followed him in, her usual confidence replaced by quiet unease. "Be careful in there," she muttered.

Aryan just nodded and pushed open the doors to Commissioner Rawat's office.

Inside, two men were already waiting.

Internal Affairs.

One of them, a smug-looking officer named Pradeep Nair, leaned back in his chair. "Detective Nagtilak," he said. "Rough night?"

Aryan didn't take the bait. "You're investigating me already?"

"Of course not." Nair's smirk didn't fade. "We just have some questions."

Aryan sat down, folding his hands on the desk. "Then ask."

Nair slid a folder across the table. Inside were printed stills from the security footage.

"Care to explain," Nair said, "why you're seen at the crime scene after the victim was already dead?"

Aryan didn't blink. "That's not me."

Nair feigned surprise. "Really? Because it sure looks like you. Walks like you. Even talks like you."

Aryan's voice was flat. "It's a fake."

Nair's smirk widened. "Convenient."

Aryan clenched his fists under the table. They wanted him to crack.

Rawat cleared his throat. "Detective Nagtilak has always been an asset to this department." His tone was carefully neutral. "But this situation is… complicated."

Nair leaned forward. "Until we figure out the truth, we're suspending you from the case. Effective immediately."

Renu tensed. "You can't—"

"It's not a choice," Rawat said. "It's an order."

Aryan exhaled. He had expected this. Still, hearing it out loud felt like a gunshot to the chest.

If he wasn't on the case, he couldn't investigate officially.

But that didn't mean he was going to stop.

A Cryptic Invitation

As Aryan walked out of the precinct, his phone buzzed. Unknown Number.

He answered. "Nagtilak."

A distorted voice responded.

"Still chasing ghosts, detective?"

Aryan stopped walking. His fingers curled around his phone. "Who is this?"

"You're asking the wrong question."

A pause.

Then, a soft chuckle.

"The right question is: Where should you be looking?"

Aryan's jaw tightened. "Where?"

"Follow the black knight."

The line went dead.

Aryan stared at his screen, then at the bloodstained chess piece in his pocket.

The knight.

He already knew where he had to go next.

Next Stop: The Second Crime Scene

He turned to Renu. "We need to find out if Rajat was the only victim."

Renu hesitated. "Aryan, if Internal Affairs catches us—"

"I don't care." Aryan's voice was hard. "I'm not sitting this one out."

Renu exhaled, then nodded. "Alright. Where do we start?"

Aryan looked down at the chess piece again.

The black knight. A clue left just for him.

And if the killer was inviting him deeper into the game, there was only one thing to do.

Play.

End of Chapter 3.