Chapter 7: The Guest and the Warning

[Recap]

The night before had left Ravi scarred—not just physically, but somewhere deeper. After protecting a girl from a group of violent thugs, his body had been bruised and battered. Nithin, the Dragon God who granted him this chance at redemption, had appeared just afterward, offering a divine healing vial. But his warning lingered harder than the bruises ever did: "The harder trials don't come with fists. They come with smiles… with temptations."

Ravi returned home to his mother—a quiet reunion full of unspoken fears and fragile comfort. She didn't press. He didn't confess. But the silence between them had begun to mend something.

While Ravi lay in the stillness of his room, Nithin hunted something darker in the alleyways—a slithering demon that had been stalking the girl Ravi saved. The entity was silent, patient, waiting for Ravi to fail.

But Nithin made one thing clear to the lurking evil: Ravi didn't need protection—he needed pressure.

---

[Present – Morning]

The sunlight filtered gently into Ravi's bedroom, brushing his cheeks and pulling him out of a light, dreamless sleep. He blinked against the golden haze, then exhaled slowly. The pain was mostly gone, thanks to the divine vial. But the ache inside him—the storm of guilt, the tightness in his chest—remained.

He sat up, stretching, the morning air cool against his skin. Outside, birds chirped in sharp, cheerful bursts. His house was already alive with the scent of breakfast—spices, ghee, chai brewing.

He dragged himself to the bathroom, went through his morning routine in quiet autopilot—washing, brushing, shaving—then dressed in a simple t-shirt and joggers.

He was halfway to the kitchen when something felt… off.

Voices.

Two of them.

One was his mother.

The other—

He stepped into the dining room and froze mid-step.

There, sitting at the table like he belonged, was Nithin.

Casual hoodie. Rolled-up sleeves. A piece of buttered toast in one hand, sipping chai like it was just another Wednesday.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Ravi muttered.

Nithin looked up. "Morning."

Ravi blinked. "What… what are you doing here?"

"Eating breakfast," Nithin replied.

"I mean here. In my house. At my table."

"Technically your mother's table."

"You live in the sky or some god realm or whatever. You can't just squat here."

"Oh, I'm not squatting," Nithin said easily, taking another bite. "I rented the upstairs room last night. Cash, of course. Your mom was kind enough to accept. I'm now officially your tenant."

Before Ravi could fully process that, his mother stepped out from the kitchen, holding a pan of hot upma. "There you are, sleepyhead! Sit, sit. Nithin helped with the cooking today—such a polite boy. You should learn a thing or two."

Ravi turned to her in disbelief. "You… you let him move in?!"

"He paid three months' rent up front," she said cheerfully. "And washed the dal without me asking. That's more than you've done all year."

Nithin grinned, sipping his chai.

Ravi sat down slowly, jaw clenched. "You're unreal."

"I prefer divine," Nithin corrected.

Ravi leaned across the table. "You're a literal god—what do you need with rent and real estate?"

"Mana conservation," Nithin said. "Too many dimensional shifts lately. I'm trying to live a little. You mortals have decent furniture and very warm beds."

Ravi gave him a long look. "I'm going to lose my mind."

"You already did. Remember? Fire. Car crash. Crying. Begging for a second chance? I gave it to you. This is the maintenance phase."

His mother reappeared, pouring chai into Ravi's cup. "Eat before it gets cold," she said.

Ravi muttered a half-hearted thanks and took a bite. The food was as good as always, but the mood in his stomach had turned to knots.

The table went quiet for a moment.

Then Nithin's tone dropped—lower. Calmer. The shift was instant.

"Ravi," he said, "there's something I need to tell you. And I want you to listen without losing your cool."

Ravi looked up warily.

"This life you're living? The one you think is your second?"

Ravi froze.

Nithin's eyes locked onto his. "It's not your second life. It's your only one."

Ravi blinked, his mouth opening slightly.

"The life you remember—the crime empire, the car crash, Rohit's mother, the fire—all of that? It wasn't your past. It was a warning."

"What?" Ravi whispered.

"A vivid dream. A divine projection. A glimpse into the man you were becoming. You were on that path, Ravi. Fast. And we—" Nithin gestured vaguely to the cosmos above—"sent you a vision. A lived experience. Every second of it felt real because it had to. You needed to feel the cost of your choices before they were too far gone."

Ravi's heart pounded. He gripped the edge of the table. "You're saying… I didn't do those things?"

"Not yet," Nithin said. "But you would have. That version of you—the monster? That was real enough. You were days away from crossing lines you couldn't return from."

Ravi stood from the chair abruptly, stepping back. His hands trembled.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he demanded. "Why let me walk around with that guilt?!"

"Because guilt changes people," Nithin said, standing too. "You needed to carry it. You needed to feel it. That's why you didn't wake up right after the dream. You woke up changed. Not because you died—but because you chose to."

Ravi shook his head, overwhelmed. "My mom… she doesn't know, right?"

"She does," Nithin said quietly. "She may not remember the exact details like you do, but she felt it. Mothers like her… they feel everything. Especially what's waiting inside their sons."

Ravi's eyes turned glassy. He swallowed hard.

"She still believes in you," Nithin added. "Even knowing what might've come."

Ravi looked down at his hands—steady, for once. "I was heading down that road."

"You were sprinting down it."

"And now?"

Nithin stepped closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Now you've seen the end. And the universe has given you one final warning."

The table, the food, the warmth—it all felt so distant now. Ravi was barely breathing.

Nithin placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"You're not that man yet. But don't mistake this second chance for immunity. The darkness is still watching."

Ravi looked up sharply. "What darkness?"

Nithin's face turned unreadable again.

"Not your burden," he said. "Not yet."

---

Later that day, Ravi sat on the swing in the courtyard, staring at the dust dancing in the golden air. His breakfast had gone cold. His tea remained untouched.

A dream.

It had all been a dream.

But the pain in his chest was real.

The regret was real.

The memory of fire, of Rohit's tears, of his own whispered apology… all of it lived in him.

He didn't know what hurt more—that it hadn't happened… or that it almost did.

He heard the door creak open behind him.

Nithin's voice came, low and gentle.

"You okay?"

"No," Ravi said.

A pause.

"Good," Nithin replied. "That means you understand."

Ravi didn't respond right away. He sat on the swing, fingers curled around the rusting chain, eyes fixed on the dirt below. The late morning sun filtered through the neem leaves, casting broken light across the concrete path.

His thoughts were a storm of fragments: the revelation about his "second life" being a divine warning, his mother knowing more than she let on, and the realization that the weight he carried wasn't guilt from a past—

—it was fear of a future he was still capable of becoming.

Then Nithin's voice cut back through the quiet.

"Hey, Ravi…"

Ravi glanced over. Nithin leaned against the doorframe now, arms crossed, his hoodie sleeves half-pushed up, revealing the faint glimmer of ancient ink coiled around one forearm like a forgotten prayer.

"I forgot to tell you something earlier," Nithin said.

His voice was casual on the surface—but Ravi heard the edge underneath. That god-tone that slipped through when things stopped being theoretical and started becoming real.

Nithin's eyes narrowed slightly. "Last night. After you left the alley."

Ravi tensed. "What about it?"

Nithin's jaw twitched, then he pushed off the frame and stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the swing's dusty path.

"Something was watching you."

Ravi blinked. "What do you mean, watching me? You were there."

"I mean after I left," Nithin said. "When you were walking home. When you thought the street was empty."

Ravi's brows furrowed. "You mean… like a person?"

Nithin's gaze didn't waver.

"No," he said softly. "Not a person."

The wind shifted. Subtle. Cold.

"I'm not sure what it was," Nithin went on, his voice now quieter. "But the energy was old. Dirty. Too quiet for a mortal to notice—but loud enough for something like me to hear it slinking away."

He crouched in front of Ravi, lowering his voice further.

"It wasn't just interested in the fight, Ravi. It was interested in you. It was watching you like a wolf watches a wounded deer."

Ravi's grip on the swing chain tightened.

"You think it was… a demon?"

Nithin didn't answer right away.

Then: "No. Worse. It felt like a demon. But the hunger behind it... it was calculated. Like it didn't want to kill you."

Ravi's mouth was dry. "Then what did it want?"

Nithin looked him dead in the eyes.

"To wait. For you to slip. For you to fall. And when you do—take you."

The world around them seemed to hush.

Even the birds quieted.

Ravi swallowed hard, the metal chain creaking slightly as he shifted in place. "You said I hadn't become that man yet… but if I do…"

"I don't think it wants the Ravi you are now," Nithin said gently. "I think it wants the Ravi from your vision. The monster. The villain. The corrupted soul."

Ravi sat back against the swing. "And you think it's still around?"

Nithin rose slowly. "I know it is. And it won't act right away. Creatures like that… they don't lunge. They lurk."

A long silence passed.

Then Nithin added, with a ghost of a smile, "So... maybe don't screw up, okay?"

Ravi let out a hollow laugh, rubbing his face with both hands.

"Yeah," he muttered. "No pressure."

Nithin looked toward the sky, as if tasting the wind.

Then back to Ravi.

"Pressure's a good thing," he said. "Diamonds. Steel. People. None of them are born without it."

Ravi didn't reply.

But his hands stopped shaking.

Nithin turned, walking back toward the house.

And behind him, Ravi sat quietly on the swing—his eyes on the broken line where sunlight met shadow.

Because somewhere out there, in the quiet corners of the city...

Something was still watching.

---

End of Chapter 7