The artificial glow of ceiling lights buzzed faintly as Dushiant Rajput stepped through the revolving doors of the corporate headquarters for his ninth day. The smell of polished wood and freshly brewed coffee had become familiar now, a daily greeting. The world outside remained oblivious to the quiet war he was fighting inside the company. But Dushiant had learned patience at the Shaolin temple, precision in every breath, and today, every ounce of that control would be tested.
He wore Parth's skin, but his mind ran layers deeper. Dressed in a crisp navy suit and his ID clipped straight and perfect, he was the picture of a young intern. But his eyes scanned everything—the smirk on Ravi Tripathi's face as he passed, the subtle fear in the eyes of the female employees when the HR manager neared, and the nervous shuffle of Ranjan, who despite being a board member, seemed increasingly guarded.
Today, Dushiant wasn't just here to observe. Today, he would test the water around Ranjan, stir the currents beneath the calm surface. But first, Ravi needed to play his part longer.
8:45 AM – HR Department
Ravi leaned back in his leather chair, sipping masala chai that Meera from Accounts had just nervously handed him. He watched her hips sway as she retreated and smirked. He had the control, the bribes, the secrets—and no one dared confront him.
Except one. Parth Bhardwaj.
The boy was too silent. Too perfect. Always watching.
Ravi had tried to rattle him with extra files, late-night tasks, snide jokes—but Parth never flinched. It annoyed him. And worse, it threatened to expose his own frailty.
10:12 AM – Cubicle 14, 3rd Floor
Dushiant worked with methodical speed. On his second screen, he analyzed the encrypted traffic logs between HR and the IT server room. The files tagged with "RANJAN" were oddly stored under restricted access—HR-level clearance. Why would HR need Ranjan's personal documentation?
A deeper dive revealed that most of those files were created or copied between 3:00 AM and 4:00 AM over the past month. Classic obfuscation timing. Someone was covering their tracks, and HR was either involved—or used.
He typed a few commands. A prompt asked for Ravi Tripathi's admin key.
Denied.
Dushiant smiled faintly.
11:35 AM – HR Lounge
Pretending to grab coffee, Dushiant waited for Ravi to return from the bathroom. He quickly slipped a USB bug under the keyboard, disguised like the frame of a forgotten paperclip. It would allow him to clone every keystroke Ravi made in the coming days.
Just as he stood up, Ravi entered. His eyes narrowed.
"Bhardwaj! You got a lot of time for coffee, huh?" he sneered.
"Sorry, sir. Just needed a break. Was feeling a bit faint," Dushiant responded in Parth's soft tone, adding a subtle cough.
Ravi's frown deepened, but he didn't argue. "Get back to work. And don't think slacking off will earn you sympathy. I'm watching."
So am I, Dushiant thought.
1:22 PM – Cafeteria
Dushiant sat alone near the far window, with a clear view of where the board members dined. Today, Ranjan arrived unusually late, avoiding everyone's eyes. He barely ate.
As Ranjan moved toward the exit, Dushiant subtly stood, timing his move. They collided slightly.
"Oh! Sorry, sir!" Dushiant stammered, dropping a file he'd planted earlier—marked "CONFIDENTIAL – Legal Correspondence" with forged letterheads.
Ranjan's eyes briefly widened.
"Be careful, intern," he muttered but gave a second glance to the file.
"Of course, sir. Sorry again. Legal files shouldn't be brought to lunch anyway," he chuckled awkwardly.
Ranjan didn't respond, but his eyes lingered a moment longer before he walked off. Dushiant had cast the bait.
3:08 PM – Elevator Incident
By mid-afternoon, word had spread—Ravi had cornered a junior graphic designer named Priya in the elevator. She'd pushed him away and reported it to her immediate superior. But as always, the complaint seemed to be "under review."
Dushiant happened to be in the security room, chatting with one of the guards over the broken facial scanner system. That was when he slipped in a USB and copied the elevator footage from the past 24 hours.
On-screen, the footage revealed the uncomfortable exchange. Ravi's hand grazed her shoulder. Her clear discomfort. Her desperate jab at the emergency stop.
Dushiant encrypted the footage and stored it in a secure cloud.
Ravi had just earned his first public strike. But not yet. He had to boil slowly.
5:15 PM – Rooftop Observation
The same rooftop where Saksham Sharma had fallen.
Dushiant stood at the edge, wind rushing through his coat. He remembered the photos. The way Saksham's body was angled. It wasn't suicide. No man who fell straight backward ended up sprawled that way.
He examined the corner pipes, then glanced at a tiny groove in the railing. A scrape. Someone had stepped here forcefully.
He pulled out a small flashlight, illuminating another clue—a hair, maybe Saksham's. But without a lab, he couldn't confirm.
He sighed. He needed leverage. And Ranjan was the thread to pull.
7:00 PM – Employee Housing Block
Ranjan's residence.
Dushiant stood in the shadow of a vending machine, watching. The apartment complex was average—unexpected for a board member. Ranjan emerged moments later, phone to his ear, pacing near the garden.
Dushiant activated the parabolic microphone hidden in his earbud.
"…I'm telling you, Rajat's plans are moving too fast. If he notices I'm hesitating…"
Dushiant froze.
"…then make him think you're still loyal," the voice on the other end snapped.
Ranjan's voice dropped, "I didn't sign up for murder."
"Too late. Keep quiet. Or you'll join Saksham."
Click.
Ranjan stood for a long time, staring at his dark phone screen. Dushiant remained hidden, mind racing.
He had confirmation now. Ranjan was not a predator. He was prey. And somewhere in the shadows, Rajat Bhandari waited.
10:00 PM – Dushiant's Apartment
His wall was filled with notes, strings, photographs. A classic detective web.
At the center: Saksham Sharma.
From him, threads connected to Aditi, Dushiant, Ranjan, Pandey, and now Rajat.
He added a new photo—Priya.
Another—elevator footage still.
He scribbled next to Ravi's name: "3 Strikes Plan – Begin Tomorrow."
Then, to Ranjan's photo, he added: "Hesitating. Guilty of hiding. Not of killing."
He poured a glass of water, stood back, and stared.
One day closer. One chapter deeper.
Tomorrow, he would move again. And this time, someone else might fall.
To be continued...