Connaught Place, Central Delhi.
After Surya arrived in the business district, he finally located the Sharma Trading Company building with the help of his phone's GPS navigation system.
The area was bustling with the usual weekday business crowd. People in suits rushed past, checking their phones and carrying briefcases. Street vendors sold chai and samosas from their carts. The whole place hummed with that particular energy that came from thousands of people trying to make money.
Judging from the size and specifications of the office building, Sharma Trading Company appeared to be a small to medium-sized enterprise.
Not a towering corporate headquarters, but a respectable five-story structure with mirrored windows and a marble-finished entrance. The kind of place that wanted to look more impressive than it actually was.
Surya walked straight through the main entrance and headed directly to the reception desk in the ground floor lobby.
No security personnel stopped him or asked him for identification.
The receptionist was a young woman in her early twenties, wearing a professional navy blue uniform, with short hair and a slightly youthful face.
Seeing Surya approach, she subconsciously smoothed her hair and offered a friendly smile:
"Hello kid. What brings you to Sharma Trading Company today?"
This was what he had come to think of as "protagonist privilege" in action.
Very few people, especially young women, would be unfriendly toward a tall, handsome teenage boy. It was almost comical how consistently it worked.
"I am not a little kid, ma'am," Surya said, palming the [Liar's Needle] discreetly while putting on his most polite smile. "I am looking for someone. Is Karan Sharma an employee here?"
Sharma Trading Company had hundreds of employees.
The receptionist certainly would not remember every single name, but Karan Sharma was different. She definitely knew that name.
In Sharma Trading Company, virtually everyone knew Karan. Section chiefs were important people, after all. Especially section chiefs who were dating the boss's daughter.
"What is your relationship to him?" the receptionist asked, not answering immediately but responding with her own question.
A reasonable question. Random teenagers did not usually show up asking for section chiefs.
Surya remained calm and gripped the small silver needle in his palm:
"He is my cousin, ma'am. Could you please call Karan bro office and ask him to come down to meet me?"
[Liar's Needle] activated.
The familiar tingling sensation spread through his palm. The air between them shimmered with that barely perceptible distortion that nobody else seemed to notice.
The receptionist looked at Surya's handsome face and seemed slightly dazed, suddenly feeling completely convinced that everything this young man was saying must be true and that he would never lie to her.
Questions like "If they are cousins, why does he need a stranger's help to contact his own family member?" were completely ignored as irrelevant details.
The family relationship between this handsome young man and Karan was obviously legitimate! Why would she even question it?
The short-haired receptionist said, "Just a moment please," and turned to dial a number on the office landline. She spoke quietly into the receiver using formal business language for a few seconds, then hung up.
"Section Chief Sharma will be down shortly."
"Thank you, ma'am."
The lie-enhancing effect of the [Liar's Needle], combined with a few well-placed respectful "ma'am"s, left the receptionist completely charmed.
A slight blush appeared on her cheeks and her smile became noticeably warmer. The needle was doing its job beautifully.
Seeing that the conversation was going well, Surya decided to push his luck and continue:
"By the way, ma'am, how is Karan bro doing at the company? My family has been really concerned about him."
A little intelligence gathering never hurt. The more he knew before the actual confrontation, the better.
"Section Chief Sharma is young, ambitious, and very capable. Ms. Trisha and the company president speak very highly of him. Other colleagues are saying we might all be invited to Section Chief Sharma and Ms. Trisha's wedding next year."
The receptionist shared this information enthusiastically, speaking highly of Karan while also revealing some personal details about his life.
After all, this was obviously Section Chief Sharma's cousin, so there was nothing inappropriate about sharing family-relevant information. Right?
"Ms. Trisha? She sounds like someone important," Surya said, quite satisfied with how talkative the receptionist had become.
"Of course! She is the president's daughter. Wait... did not Section Chief Sharma tell his family about her?"
A flicker of doubt crossed her face. Surely such important news would have been shared with family?
"I am just a cousin, after all."
Surya casually reinforced his assumed identity without directly answering the question.
He noted that Karan Sharma seemed to be living quite well—apparently even romantically involved with the boss's daughter. So the man who had let his girlfriend drown eight years ago had moved on rather successfully. How convenient for him.
During their conversation, the elevator doors on the side of the lobby opened with a soft ding, and a man in a crisp suit and tie emerged. He had slicked-back hair and wore expensive-looking gold-framed glasses.
He carried himself with the confident bearing of someone who had achieved professional success. The kind of posture that said "I am important" without needing to speak.
The man glanced at Surya standing by the reception desk from across the lobby, and his expression immediately turned cold. He walked directly over and addressed Surya in front of the receptionist:
"I do not know you. Who are you, exactly?"
This young man in the expensive suit and tie was obviously the Karan that Surya had been looking for.
At this moment, his professionally polished demeanor showed clear signs of irritation. He addressed the short-haired receptionist with barely concealed criticism in his voice:
"Riya, my time is extremely valuable. Do not let random strangers waste it with their nonsense. Do you understand?"
Oh, so we are starting with the power play. Interesting choice.
The receptionist, Riya, appeared intimidated and apologetic. "But sir, he said he was your cousin also..."
"I have never seen this person before in my life! And you just believed whatever he told you? What has gotten into you!"
Karan adjusted his gold-framed glasses, his voice becoming noticeably sharper and more condescending. The kind of tone managers used when they wanted to remind subordinates of their place in the hierarchy.
After hearing this rebuke, Riya looked first stunned, then confused, as if suddenly waking from a strange dream.
Yes, why had she so easily believed that this random high school student and Section Chief Sharma were related? What had she been thinking?
At this point, Surya finally spoke up:
"Mr. Sharma, please do not blame her. If you want to be angry with someone, direct it at me."
Might as well take the heat off the poor receptionist. She was just doing her job, and he had manipulated her with magic.
"You?" Karan turned around, looking down at Surya with obvious disdain. "What exactly do you want from me? If you cannot give me a straight answer, get out of this building immediately!"
Unlike the receptionist, Karan felt no particular attraction toward this handsome teenager who had falsely claimed to be his cousin while wearing what looked like cheap, off-brand clothing.
The look he gave Surya was openly contemptuous. The kind of look that said "you are beneath me and we both know it."
To be honest, Karan's first impression was that this tall boy who had appeared out of nowhere was indeed quite good-looking.
But what use was a handsome face? It certainly would not pay any bills or advance any careers.
Pathetic!
Pretty boys with no money were just decorations. And decorations had no place in the serious world of business.
"Well, someone asked me to deliver something to you."
Surya had no idea what his target was thinking at the moment. He simply responded to everything with calm composure and a polite smile.
Let him think whatever he wanted. Surya was here for one purpose, and condescending attitudes were not going to deter him.
"Someone? Who?"
"A person named Priya Gupta."
The moment he heard the name "Priya Gupta," Karan's previously stern expression suddenly froze completely. After only half a second, he forced his features back to normal:
"I am sorry, but I do not know anyone by that name. You have the wrong person."
The recovery was impressive, Surya had to admit. Most people would have taken longer to regain composure after hearing a ghost's name spoken aloud.
From the initial aggression to final calm, it did not take even a second.
But that half-second freeze had told Surya everything he needed to know. Karan remembered Priya. He remembered her very well.
Surya did not argue. Instead, he calmly pulled out a small stack of papers from his backpack.
These were not the actual letter he had received from the water spirit in the game, but rather ordinary A4 pages with photocopied materials.
One was the news report: "Tragedy at Delhi Public School - Student Drowns!"
Additionally, there were what appeared to be screenshots saved from forum discussions, with some of the messages even enlarged for emphasis.
[Gupta was really foolish.]
[Sharma is a coward.]
[It was Sharma who suggested the suicide pact to Gupta. After she jumped into the lake, he chickened out?]
"Mr. Sharma, as you can see, both your name and Priya's name appear in these documents. I did some preparation over the weekend to avoid any potential misunderstandings, so I printed multiple copies in advance so you do not have to worry of getting it lost or burn by chance."
Surya handed over the photocopied materials with a completely innocent tone.
The implication was clear. He had more copies. Destroying these would accomplish nothing.
Karan's expression at this moment became a fascinating study in barely controlled panic. He was desperately trying to maintain his original professional composure, but the twitching at the corners of his eyes completely betrayed his true emotional state.
His breathing became irregular and shallow. After more than ten seconds of visible internal struggle, he pulled Surya aside and spoke again, this time in a much quieter, more conciliatory voice: "Let us... discuss this somewhere more private."
And there it was. The moment of capitulation. From arrogant section chief to nervous man with secrets in under thirty seconds.
Watching the previously arrogant and condescending Karan Sharma suddenly lose his composure and drop his facade of professional manner, Surya found the transformation genuinely amusing.
He suddenly thought of a phrase that was darkly humorous but perfectly suited to the current situation:
Mr. Sharma, you would not want your colleagues to know about your doings, would you?
Or more importantly, you would not want your future father-in-law to know about the girl who drowned because of you, would you?
Because that would definitely complicate the upcoming wedding plans.