The One Place He Was Never Invited To

Three days after Bhudevi Academy went viral, India's media finally stopped chasing politicians and started chasing progress.

But this time, they weren't running behind press conferences.They were running behind the Spend King's trail.

Headlines exploded.

"From ₹10 to ₹200 Cr: The Man Who Spends Without Showing His Face"

"Children Call Him God. Economists Call Him Genius. Who is He?"

"The Silent Billionaire Just Announced 100 More Schools"

And then came the press leak.From someone in the PMO itself.

A journalist posted a screenshot of an internal memo:

"Subject: Xylon Proposal Accepted. Central Approval for 100 Rural Schools Begins. Funded by Private Entity, Name Undisclosed."

The tweet caption read:

"The government's letting him do it. He's about to rebuild the education map."

At Xylon HQ, Adarsh stared at the live tracker.

Red dots turned green.

One by one.The blueprint was flawless.

Each school would be:

-Solar-powered

-Staffed with hybrid teachers (local + digital)

-Equipped with AI learning hubs

-Open to children without ID or paperwork

No uniforms.

No fees.

No bribes.

Only access.

In a press conference, a reporter asked the Education Minister:

"Is the Spend King replacing government work?"

He smiled nervously.

"He's not replacing us. He's... reminding us."

Meanwhile, far from all the media, Nishanth stood quietly in a low-income neighborhood near Hanamkonda Rail Junction.

The area stank of neglect broken drains, open garbage, jobless youth smoking on broken stairs.

But in the middle of that mess, he saw a small room where children sat huddled around a man drawing alphabets on a wall using chalk.

Nishanth stepped forward.

The man turned.

"Class is full, sir. Come back later."

"I'm not a student."

"Then what do you want?"

Nishanth walked in.Opened his notebook.Tore a check.

₹1,00,00,000

The man's chalk fell from his hand.

"What is this?!"

"To build something better. Bigger. For these kids."

"But who are you?"

Nishanth handed him a card.No name.

Just a line:

"Nothing is too expensive — if they're the future."

Elsewhere, Supriya received a message from her mother.A video.One of her distant cousins had just been admitted into a new scholarship program.

A program that paid for his laptop, hostel, travel, and books all under the Silent Scholarship Grant by Xylon Foundation.

Her mother's message said:

"This boy used to sleep hungry last year. Now he's going to become a doctor. Can you believe that? Look what God is doing through this Spend King."

Supriya stared at the message.

"Not God, Amma," she whispered."

"Someone you all called useless once."

That night, an editor from a global magazine wrote:

"India doesn't need a hero with a cape.

It needs more men like the Spend King , who don't talk....they just build."

Nishanth sat in a dim-lit war room.

Around him:

Six young women and Five young men.All former dropouts. Now his think-tank.Rhey weren't employees.

They were survivors. Dreamers. Fighters. He had handpicked each one from dusty corners of the country and together, they were planning the next wave.

"Where next, sir?" one of them asked.

"Where no one's watching."

"That's most of India."

Nishanth nodded.

"Exactly."

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Time: 24 Months

Proceed?

Nishanth didn't blink.He tapped YES.

Then added one line to the campaign dashboard:

"Let no child ask for permission to dream."

And so, while the media screamed...

While rivals plotted....

While broken girls like Supriya wept for what they lost,,,

The Spend King just built more.

There was one place Nishanth had never returned to.Not because he was banned.Not because he was bitter.But because some places don't forget the silence you left them with.

His old college.

The very place where he first loved.First lost.

First discovered that in India that dreams were taxed, and loyalty meant nothing without money.

The last time he walked those corridors, he was just a boy in faded jeans, watching Supriya smile at someone else from behind a library glass pane.

Now?

Now he could buy the college ten times over.

But he didn't.Instead, he chose something subtler.

A message.

The college announced its 75th Annual Fest.

Politicians were expected. Alumni were invited. A few famous actors were on the guest list. And of course , every startup intern was hoping the Spend King might crash the event.

But no one expected what arrived instead.

A box.

Delivered by hand.Wrapped in black.No return address.The Dean opened it during the organizing committee meeting.

Inside was:

-A feather carved from obsidian stone,

-A letter on silver paper,

-A signed cheque of ₹10,00,00,000.

Ten crores.

For student development programs, scholarships, international exchange, and building a permanent rooftop observatory.

All under one condition:

"No building. No wing. No bench will carry my name."

The letter read:

"You taught me nothing about money. But everything about hunger."

"Consider this....an apology for not thanking you before I left."

And a warning to never ignore another dreamer again."

— X.

The Dean sat down.Students stared at the cheque.Nobody said a word.They didn't need to.

The Spend King had returned without returning.

Supriya saw the letter that night on the official fest Instagram page.She didn't even open the comments.Didn't share the post.Didn't speak to anyone.

She just stared at the name.

X.

And whispered:"Why didn't I wait for you?"

That same night, her college juniors hosted a discussion circle in the seminar hall.

They asked questions like:

"Do you think he'll ever reveal himself?"

"Would you forgive the people who left you?"

"Can power this pure...really exist?"

And one boy , a first-year commerce student from a farmer's family stood up and said:

"I don't care who he is.

I just want to be like him."

"Because the Spend King didn't just build buildings..."

"He made the world stop laughing at people like us."

Back in his office, Nishanth watched a livestream of the student event.

He didn't smile.He didn't cry.

He just whispered:

"That's enough."

[SYSTEM ALERT – NATIONAL CULTURE INDEX SPIKE]

Public Sentiment: Highest in Indian Tycoon History

Cultural Impact Score: 9.9/10

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Reveal Option: Still Available

Would you like to reveal your identity now?

Nishanth stared at it.

Tapped NO.

But typed one line below:

"Soon. When the ones I helped can stand without me."

And then he closed the system.

Sat in the dark.

And listened to the city breathe.

TO BE CONTINUED....