Surprise [Bonus Chap]

They sat on a rickshaw—a typical pedal rickshaw, meant for two people—but somehow, the three of them managed to squeeze in. As the rickshaw wobbled down the crowded streets, they passed honking cars, barking dogs, and the everyday chaos of Dhaka. Eventually, they reached the Hazi Tower construction site.

Johir jumped off first and paid the rickshaw puller. All three of them stood in front of the tall, half-built tower surrounded by scaffolding and cement dust. It was a mess of metal rods, bricks, and shouting laborers. Workers moved like ants, lifting, building, sweating—but none of them paid the boys any attention.

They walked toward the manager's table, a rusty desk under a tin shade. Shams noticed the manager looked tense, flipping through papers and talking to himself.

Shams approached politely. "Um… excuse me, sir. Do you know a worker named Miraz?"

The manager's eyes widened instantly. His expression twisted with anger. "Miraz? That brat?! That MF! You're here for him?" He slammed his hand on the table. "I don't know where he is! That bastard didn't show up today! His site's work is completely paused because of him. If you see him, drag him back here!"

Then the manager's tone turned venomous. "Wait a minute… are you his friend? Or are you that Rajakar's grandson too?" He sneered. "You think you'll cover for him? You can work in his place then, boy!"

Shams kept calm. He was kind and patient, used to swallowing insults—but Shahin was nothing like that.

When someone insulted his friends, Shahin snapped.

Without a word, he threw a punch straight into the manager's nose.

CRACK!

Blood gushed. The manager stumbled backward, holding his face, eyes filled with disbelief. "Do you even know who I am?! How dare you hit me?!"

Shams rushed to stop him. "Shahin! Stop, please—"

But it was too late. Shahin wasn't listening.

Behind them, Johir stood in a corner, phone raised, secretly recording everything with a smirk.

Punch after punch landed. The manager collapsed into the mud. Now Shahin was sitting in the manager's chair while the manager groaned on the ground, his nose swollen and his shirt soaked in blood and dirt.

All the laborers nearby watched with wide grins. For once, justice was being served. The manager, who had treated them like dirt for years, was finally getting a taste of his own medicine. Some of them even chuckled under their breath.

Shahin leaned forward in the chair, eyes cold. "Now... answer my friend's question properly."

The manager, humiliated and trembling, wiped blood from his face and stammered, "S-Sir… I really don't know where he is. He didn't show up today. Yesterday's rain already slowed us down, and now he's missing too… I lost my temper, that's all…"

Shams was still confused. "Where could he go…"

Then something clicked in his mind.

He remembered Miraz once saying he had only one person left in the world—his uncle gramps, whom he called 'Gramps.' His real name was Kazim. And he'd recently been hospitalized due to illness… at J.B. Hospital.

Shams froze.

His eyes widened as a memory hit him like lightning.

Just this morning, there had been breaking news on TV:

> "An old man named Kazim mysteriously disappeared from J.B. Hospital. No sign of him leaving the building. No CCTV footage, no visitors. It's like he just… vanished. Is this somehow linked to the mysterious phenomenon known as 'Battle for Growth'? For the first time in history, such an untraceable disappearance has taken place..."

Shams' heart started pounding.

But he maintained his calm...

Then,Shams nodded slightly and said, "Thanks for the info."

The manager sat there, still in the mud, breathing heavily, face bruised and bloodied. But in his mind, something dark was brewing.

> "Just wait… once they leave, I'll call the police. I'll get them all locked up. Let's see them laugh then."

But before the trio could turn to leave, Johir suddenly stepped forward.

He pulled out his phone and, with a wicked grin, raised it up to show the manager a video. It was the footage of Shahin mercilessly beating him moments ago—clear, uncut, brutal.

"Try anything, uncle," Johir said, his smile sharp. "File one little complaint, and this video will be all over Facebook, YouTube, Insta—everywhere. Dhaka will laugh at you."

Shahin leaned in beside him, arms crossed, smirking like a villain out of a crime drama.

The manager's face turned pale.

Shams, standing a bit behind them, just watched the whole thing play out. A strange smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

> "Sometimes…" he thought to himself, "I really wonder if these two are actual criminals. Heh… hehehe…"

And just like that, the three walked away—like gangsters who'd just robbed the day of its peace.

As they stepped out of the construction site, Shams turned to the others.

"Our next stop… J.B. Hospital."

This time, they hailed a CNG and headed straight there.

After reaching J.B. Hospital, the three walked into the building. The scent of disinfectant filled the air. People moved about hurriedly—doctors, nurses, worried relatives, all caught in their own worlds.

Shams approached the reception desk where a nurse was seated.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said politely. "Do you know about a patient named Kazim?"

The nurse looked up, puzzled. "Yes, I do. Why are you asking? Are you a relative?"

"No," Shams replied. "But I'm a friend of his grandson."

The nurse glanced down at her clipboard, then said, "There was a boy who came here—Miraz, right?"

Shams quickly nodded. "Yes! That's him. Where is he now?"

"I'm sorry," the nurse said, shaking her head. "We can't reveal any more information. It's against our privacy policy."

Shams sighed and stepped aside. The three of them sat on a bench nearby. Johir and Shahin, as usual, were whispering and laughing about something—always joking around like little kids. But Shams… his mind was spinning.

What should I do now...?

Then suddenly, a familiar figure entered the hospital.

Professor Anisur.

He spotted Shams right away and approached him. "Shams! What are you doing here?"

"We're here… for something important," Shams replied.

Professor Anisur sat beside him. "Shams, what's going on with you lately? You've changed."

Shams stayed silent.

The professor continued, "If this was two weeks ago and I threw you out of class, you'd have come to my office and begged me not to punish you. But now? You didn't even say a word."

Shams gave a tired smile. "Sir… it's not your fault. I just have a lot going on."

Professor Anisur frowned. "Shams, I think this change happened because Tahsin won the student council election."

"No, sir," Shams replied gently. "It's not about that."

"Then what is it?" the professor asked, clearly concerned.

Shams looked down for a moment, then said softly, "Sir… I think I might quit studying."

Professor Anisur's eyes widened. "What?! Are you insane?"

Shams looked up, his expression calm. "Sir… I'm going to represent Bangladesh… in the Battle for Growth."

There was a pause. Then Professor Anisur blinked. "Shams… Bangladesh rejected the offer to participate. Everyone knows that."

Trying to avoid the topic, Shams quickly changed the subject. "By the way, sir… what brings you here?"

The professor took a deep breath. "I heard that my close friend Kazim… he suddenly vanished from this hospital."

Shams froze. His eyes widened in shock...Sir Anisur and Miraz's grandfather close friends?