## **Chapter 8: Raj Sharma**
*(From the novel "I Became the Gamer Who Controls Reality")*
Vivaan didn't think too much about what others said or thought. Their opinions meant nothing to him.
All he wanted now was to do well in the **combat test** for the upcoming **college entrance exams**. If he could score high enough to enter a reputable academy, he'd finally be able to balance what he loved most—gaming—with his studies.
Graduate peacefully, get a decent job related to the **dimensional zones**, and live quietly. That was his plan. Nothing fancy, nothing grand.
But one sentence from **Riya Malhotra** had stuck in his head. Her casual mention of his *defeat under Reva Rathore's hands* had stirred something in him.
It didn't make sense.
Reva was around his age—maybe even a little younger—but she was already a **Legendary stage** expert. The difference between the **Mortal** and **Legendary stages** was vast. It wasn't a simple gap—it was a chasm.
No one at the Mortal stage could ever hope to defeat someone at the Legendary stage.
The clearest sign of a Legendary was having a **Companion Beast**. Mortals rarely had them, and even if they managed to obtain a **Companion Egg**, they lacked the **Primordial Energy** needed to hatch it.
And there were deeper differences—things unseen. Once a human advanced to the Legendary stage, they awakened their **Legendary Life Providence**, drastically enhancing their physical and spiritual power. It made them… something more.
That's why Legendary experts almost never bothered to fight Mortals. It was beneath them.
So why had Reva—already a prodigy at that level—challenged him, a mere Mortal? And then, right after defeating him, she transferred out of **Guide High**?
It was as if she had come there just to beat him.
Vivaan frowned, leaning back in his chair.
"I've never even left **Varuna City** my whole life. How could I possibly offend someone like her? Could it be… Dad?"
The thought came unbidden, but once it appeared, it refused to leave.
His mother had died during childbirth, so Vivaan had grown up in a single-parent home. And his father, **Raj Sharma**, was… well, "unreliable" was putting it mildly.
Raj was like his name's meaning—wind. He came and went as he pleased.
By the time Vivaan was five, he had already learned to cook, clean, do laundry, and handle groceries on his own.
And according to Raj's own words, this was "to train his son's manly survival instincts."
That, he claimed, would help Vivaan "get a wife someday."
Vivaan sighed just thinking about it. His father's laziness was unmatched.
But to be fair, Raj had *never* failed to send him money every month.
Raj Sharma worked as a translator. When Vivaan was little, his father often translated documents from home. But as technology improved and translation software took over, the work started to dry up.
Later, Raj switched to interpretation work—traveling across the country for jobs. Sometimes he'd be gone for weeks. Sometimes for months.
This time, though, it had been *half a year*.
If not for the regular monthly deposits into his account, Vivaan might have thought his father was dead.
Raj often went to remote areas with poor network coverage, so being uncontactable was nothing new. Vivaan had gotten used to it.
Even if he hadn't, there wasn't much he could do about it anyway. All he could do was wait.
Their house had always been quiet—a home of just two men.
Vivaan didn't think he could have possibly offended someone like Reva Rathore. Which only left one possibility.
Maybe his *father* had.
Failing to find Raj, Reva might've taken her anger out on his son.
It sounded absurd, but when it came to his father… nothing was impossible.
Raj Sharma was infamous for being a flirt. He'd been beaten up several times in the past for hitting on women who were already in relationships.
Vivaan wouldn't have been surprised if he'd managed to offend someone powerful—like Reva's family.
He was still thinking about it when his phone suddenly rang, making him jump.
He fumbled for it, then froze when he saw the caller ID.
**Raj Sharma.**
Speak of the devil.
Vivaan quickly answered.
"Dad?"
Before he could say anything else, Raj's cheerful voice blasted through the speaker.
"Son! Great news! I'm getting married! You coming to my wedding?"
Vivaan nearly dropped the phone.
"What—wait—*you're getting married*?"
"Yup! I'll send you Sweety's photo," Raj said casually. Before Vivaan could even respond, the call ended. Seconds later, a message popped up with a photo attached.
Vivaan opened it.
It showed his father, grinning ear to ear, standing beside a woman who looked to be in her early thirties. She was elegant—beautiful in a mature, understated way. Not the kind of beauty that relied on filters or makeup. She had presence.
His phone rang again. Raj's excited voice came through.
"How's she, huh? Your new mom isn't bad, right? Her name's **Ojaswini Rao**."
"Not bad," Vivaan said dryly. "But she's not my mom."
He didn't dislike the idea of Raj remarrying—honestly, the man could use some stability—but Vivaan had long gotten used to living alone. He didn't need a "new mom," and chances were, she didn't want a grown stepson either.
"My wife is naturally your mom. That's how it works, kiddo," Raj said matter-of-factly. "Anyway, my wedding's in a few days. You better come, okay?"
Vivaan rubbed his forehead. "Where? When?"
"**Lucknow**, in a week."
"A week? Dad, my **college entrance combat test** is in a few days. It overlaps with that date. I can't go, even if I wanted to."
"Ah, already college entrance exams, huh? Time flies," Raj said with a wistful tone.
Vivaan didn't know if his father was pretending or genuinely had no idea. Probably the latter.
"Dad…" he said slowly. "Do you remember that old *biscuit tin* inside the wardrobe?"
"Biscuit tin? What biscuit tin?"
"The metal one—about thirty centimeters long. Square. There's a cartoon bear on it."
"Ohh, that one!" Raj chuckled. "I used to eat biscuits from that when I was little. Haven't seen that brand in years. Why? You feeling nostalgic?"
Vivaan's grip on the phone tightened.
"There's a *cellphone* inside that tin. Did you put it there?"
There was a pause on the other end.
Raj's confused voice came through. "Cellphone? No idea what you're talking about."
Vivaan's pulse quickened.
That cellphone—the mysterious one—was still in his possession. And now, he was more certain than ever… his father had nothing to do with it.
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