The morning sunlight hit the bank windows at such a painfully bright angle that even the glass panels seemed tired of existing. Employees shuffled in half-awake, yawning into coffee cups, adjusting ID cards, and whispering about deadlines like it was gossip. But the moment Mehul and Nacikate stepped through the main entrance together—side by side by force—every single head snapped toward them.
It was instant.
Like birds sensing earthquakes.
Whispers exploded across the floor.
"That's them—those two—"
"The synergy pair!"
"Bro they're trending AGAIN today also—"
"Oh my god they're walking together, I'm gonna faint—"
"Office OTP confirmed."
Nacikate closed his eyes for half a second, inhaling deeply through the nose. It didn't help. The humiliation was too strong. Even the potted plants looked like they were judging him.
"This is a nightmare," he muttered under his breath. "A socially catastrophic nightmare."
Mehul walked like the literal embodiment of "I am the crackfic in your Wi-Fi." Hoodie slightly oversized, headphones around his neck, hair an enthusiastic mess, sipping iced coffee like he was strolling into a music festival instead of a corporate building.
"Uncle breathe," Mehul said casually, slurping. "Why are you acting like you're walking into the Supreme Court?"
"Because this place is my Supreme Court," Nacikate snapped. "And currently, I'm being tried for a crime I didn't commit!"
Mehul nodded thoughtfully. "I mean technically you did commit a few crimes."
"I HAVEN'T COMMITTED ANY—"
Mehul raised a finger. "You glared at the HR manager so hard yesterday she forgot her password."
"THAT IS NOT A CRIME."
"It kinda is."
"MEHUL—"
But the universe refused to let him finish.Their proximity trackers blinked in perfect synchronization, glowing soft blue like smug little halos above sinners.
Distance Check: 3.8 meters. Stable.
"Why does it ANNOUNCE that?!" Nacikate hissed.
"To encourage bonding," Mehul said cheerfully.
"There is NO bonding!"
But the tracker glowed brighter, clearly disagreeing.
They reached Cabin 12—their shared corporate prison cell—and the moment the door opened, the wall screen lit up violently, projecting the new Emotional Calibration dashboard.
A new animated icon greeted them:Two tiny chibi versions of Mehul and Nacikate waving like hyperactive mascots.
Mehul's reaction was loud and immediate."BRO WE'RE CARTOONSSSS—"
Nacikate stared blankly. "Why am I smiling like that? I have NEVER smiled like that in my LIFE."
The screen chimed, switching to the next page.
The calibration mission for the day appeared in bold, insulting clarity.
Joint Task #1:Handle a real customer together.Recording Enabled.Emotional Pattern Tracking Active.
Nacikate froze.Mehul grinned like he had been waiting his entire life for this exact flavor of chaos.
"No," Nacikate said immediately. "Absolutely not. We are NOT doing customer handling. Customers are fragile. Customers panic. Customers cry. Customers break laws accidentally."
Mehul shrugged. "So do you."
"I DO NOT—"
But the knock on the door cut him off.Both men turned.
The receptionist poked her head inside, her expression pure mischief.
"Sir? Your client is here."
"MEHUL, DO. NOT. SAY. ANYTHING."
Mehul raised both hands innocently."I didn't say anything yet!"
"You were THINKING something!"
"No I wasn't."
"Yes you were."
"No."
"Yes."
The receptionist, done with their nonsense, simply stepped aside and let the client walk in.
And in that moment, silence fell so hard it felt like a slap to the air.
A middle-aged uncle waddled in, carrying a bursting file folder, three USB drives, two plastic bags, and the exhausted aura of a man who had lived through every technological disaster possible.
"Namaste beta log," the uncle said, adjusting his spectacles. "I need help."
Mehul leaned back, sipping his iced coffee.Nacikate sat up straight, terrified.
"What is the issue, sir?" Nacikate asked professionally.
The uncle opened his folder and unleashed a landslide of documents—forms, receipts, mismatched stapled bundles, Post-it notes, crumpled photos of IDs, half-printed PDFs, and a single handwritten note that said "IMPORTANT (???)".
"My GST is not filing," the uncle said simply. "Also my PAN is showing error. Also my Aadhaar is not linking. Also someone keeps hacking my email."
Mehul froze.
The uncle continued casually, "Last week I found a folder in my Gmail named 'TAX EVASION ARC.' Who does this?"
Mehul immediately looked away.
Nacikate slowly rotated his head like a malfunctioning animatronic."Mehul," he whispered, "please tell me you didn't—"
"It was FUNNY AT 3 AM OKAY—"
"MEHUL YOU HACKED OUR CLIENT??"
The uncle frowned. "Beta are you two fighting?"
"NO," they both said at the same time, voices breaking.
The Emotional Calibration dashboard chirped happily.
Emotional Bond Detected: Synchronized Response
The uncle squinted at the screen."What is this? Why are your cartoons holding hands?"
Mehul choked.Nacikate died internally.
Before they could explain, the uncle slapped his bag onto the desk.
"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat. "Fix everything. Fast. My cousin is saying my data may be 'compromised' and you two look like you understand compromise."
Mehul muttered, "We actually don't—"
"We do NOT," Nacikate corrected instantly.
But the uncle wasn't listening. He simply sat down, crossed his arms, and watched them expectantly.
On the wall, the recording light flashed red.
The session had begun.
And the crackfic , oh god, the shit was ready.