June 18, 2001. 8:30 PM.
J.P. Nagar in the early 2000s had a distinct divide. On one side were the quiet bungalows of retired officers; on the other, hidden in the shadows of the Outer Ring Road, were the "Bar and Restaurants"—dimly lit establishments that smelled of damp upholstery, fried peanuts, and regret.
"Sathya Bar" was one such place.
Surya stepped inside. The air conditioning was non-existent, replaced by the lethargic spin of ceiling fans cutting through a haze of cigarette smoke.
"Table for one?" a waiter in a stained red vest asked.
"I'm looking for someone," Surya said, scanning the room.
The Teacher Recruitment Token acted like a compass in his mind. A golden thread of light, visible only to him, stretched across the room, pointing to the darkest corner.
There, slumped over a table cluttered with empty bottles of Old Monk rum, sat a man. He wore a crumpled linen suit that had once been expensive. His hair was a bird's nest of grey and black.
Surya walked over. The man was muttering to himself in English, tracing patterns in a spilled puddle of water.
"...the mitral valve prolapse is distinct... the click... lub-dub-click... idiots missed it..."
Surya pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Dr. Rao?"
The man stopped tracing. He looked up slowly. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with dark circles, but behind the haze of alcohol, there was a terrifying intelligence.
"Dr. Rao is dead," the man slurred, waving a hand dismissively. "I am just Rao. The drinker. Go away, boy. I don't give prescriptions anymore."
Surya activated the Eye of Vidya.
[Target: Dr. Arvind Rao]
* Age: 45
* Former Status: Chief of Cardiology, City Hospital.
* Current Status: Unemployed / Blacklisted.
* Hidden Talent: Biological Insight (Rank S).
* Teaching Aptitude: Rank A+ (The "Storyteller" Archetype).
* Flaw: Chronic Alcoholism (Trauma-induced).
* Reason for Disgrace: Whistleblower. Exposed the hospital board for using expired stents on charity patients. Was sued for negligence in retaliation and stripped of his license.
Surya's respect for the man spiked instantly. This wasn't a failure; this was a martyr.
"I'm not here for a prescription," Surya said calmly. "I'm here to offer you a job."
Rao let out a harsh, barking laugh. "A job? Who hires a doctor who killed a patient? That's what the papers say, isn't it? 'The Butcher of City Hospital'."
"I know you didn't kill anyone," Surya said. "I know about the expired stents."
Rao froze. The glass of rum stopped halfway to his lips. He slammed it down, the liquid splashing.
"Who are you?" Rao hissed, his voice suddenly sober and dangerous. "Did the Board send you? To mock me?"
"My name is Surya. I run a college. I need a Biology teacher."
Rao stared at him for a long moment, then burst into laughter. "A teacher? You want me to teach brats about photosynthesis? I used to perform open-heart surgeries, boy! I held human lives in my hands!"
"And now you hold a glass of cheap rum," Surya retorted sharply. "Is that an improvement?"
Rao flinched. The anger drained out of him, replaced by a deep, crushing weariness. "Get out."
"I have forty students," Surya pressed on.
"Kids from slums. Kids whose parents drive autos. They want to be doctors. But they can't afford coaching. If they go to the big colleges, they will be crushed by the competition. They need someone who understands the heart—literally and metaphorically."
"Not my problem," Rao muttered, pouring another drink.
Surya was about to use his Silver Tongue skill (which he hadn't bought yet, damn it), but fate intervened.
A commotion erupted near the entrance.
"Help! Someone help!"
A heavy-set man at the cashier's counter had collapsed. He was clutching his chest, gasping for air, his face turning a terrifying shade of purple. The waiters were panicking, fanning him with menus.
"Heart attack!" someone shouted. "Call an ambulance!"
"Ambulance will take twenty minutes!" another yelled.
Surya looked at Rao. The doctor was staring at the commotion, his hand trembling on his glass. The Hippocratic Oath was warring with his bitterness.
"Dr. Rao," Surya said softly. "That man doesn't have twenty minutes."
Rao closed his eyes. He cursed loudly.
Then, the drunkard vanished. The surgeon appeared.
Rao leaped from his chair, knocking it over. He sprinted across the bar with a speed that belied his intoxication.
"Move!" Rao roared, shoving the waiters aside.
He knelt beside the dying man. He placed two fingers on the neck.
"No pulse. Ventricular Fibrillation," Rao barked. "I need aspirin! Now! And someone give me a spoon!"
"A... a spoon?" a waiter stammered.
"A metal spoon! Do it!"
Rao ripped the man's shirt open. He began CPR, his compressions rhythmic and brutal. Hard and fast. Hard and fast.
"Come on," Rao gritted his teeth, sweat dripping from his forehead. "Don't you die on me."
The waiter ran back with a spoon and a strip of aspirin.
Rao crushed the aspirin in his palm and forced it under the man's tongue.
Then, he did something insane. He took the metal spoon, pressed it against the man's fingernail bed, and pressed hard—pain stimulus to check for reflex. Nothing.
"Precordial thump," Rao announced.
He raised his fist and hammered it down onto the center of the man's sternum with a precise, violent thud.
THUMP.
Silence.
Then, a gasp. A ragged, desperate intake of air.
The man's eyes flew open. He coughed violently.
"He's back," Rao whispered, sitting back on his heels, panting. "Sinus rhythm restored. Get him water. Keep him seated upright."
The bar erupted into applause. The waiters looked at Rao like he was a god.
Rao didn't smile. He stood up, his hands shaking again. He looked at his trembling fingers, then walked back to his table and reached for the rum bottle.
Surya's hand shot out and grabbed Rao's wrist.
"You saved him," Surya said.
"I delayed the inevitable," Rao muttered, trying to pull his hand away. "Let me drink."
"No." Surya snatched the bottle and smashed it on the floor.
The sound of shattering glass silenced the bar again.
"You are a healer, Arvind Rao," Surya said, his voice echoing with the Principal's Authority. "You belong in a lecture hall, creating a thousand more doctors who will save a thousand more lives. Rotting in this bar is a sin against the talent God gave you."
Rao looked at the broken glass.
He looked at the man he had saved, who was now weeping and thanking the waiters.
"They took my license," Rao whispered, his voice breaking. "I can't practice. I can't enter a hospital."
"I'm not asking you to practice," Surya said, extending his hand. "I'm asking you to teach. I have a license. I have a college. And I have a place for you."
Rao looked at Surya's hand. It was steady.
"What is the pay?" Rao asked, a cynical glint returning to his eye.
"Bad," Surya admitted. "But the coffee is good. And I promise you one thing: The students will listen to you."
Rao hesitated. Then, slowly, he reached out and shook Surya's hand. His grip was weak, but it was there.
"I teach my way," Rao warned. "No textbooks. I teach from the body."
"Deal," Surya grinned.
[System Notification]
[Staff Recruited: Dr. Arvind Rao]
[Role: Head of Biology Department]
[Loyalty: 40% (Skeptical)]
[Special Effect:] The 'Healer's Touch'. Biology students gain +50% practical understanding.
The Next Morning. June 19.
The "campus" (the half-built brick structure) was buzzing. The 40 new students sat on plastic chairs arranged in rows on the dusty ground floor.
There were no walls yet, just pillars, so the cool morning breeze blew through the "classroom".
Surya stood at the front.
"Welcome to your first orientation class," Surya announced. "Today, we don't have a blackboard. But we have something better."
He gestured to the side.
Dr. Rao walked in. He was shaved, wearing a clean (albeit slightly frayed) shirt. He looked nervous. He carried a goat's heart he had bought from the butcher shop, wrapped in a banana leaf.
The students gasped.
"Good morning," Rao's voice was raspy. He placed the heart on the table.
"This," Rao said, pointing to the organ, "is the engine of life. The books will tell you it has four chambers. They are lying. It has a million stories."
He pulled out a scalpel (which he had kept from his old kit).
"Who wants to see where the soul lives?"
The students leaned forward, mesmerized. Even the rowdiest boys were silent.
Surya watched from the back, leaning against a pillar.
[Skill Activated: Institutional Aura]
[Sanctum of Clarity: ON]
[Student Focus: 100%]
Rao began to dissect. As he cut, he spoke. He didn't use jargon. He spoke of pressure, of flow, of the delicate dance of valves.
He spoke of the patient he saved last night (without naming himself), describing the electrical storm of a heart attack.
For 40 students, Biology stopped being a subject. It became a thriller movie.
Surya smiled. He had his Biology Head.
But as he turned to leave, his phone buzzed.
Caller: Unknown Number (Lakshmi).
"You work fast," her voice said. "Recruiting the Butcher of City Hospital? Bold."
"He's a good teacher," Surya said defensively. "Why are you calling?"
"To give you a warning," Lakshmi said.
"Vikram Seth knows you got the license. He knows about Rao. And he isn't happy. He's sending the Inspectors."
"I have a license," Surya said.
"Yes. But do you have a Fire Safety Certificate? Do you have a Sanitation Certificate? Do you have Building Stability Approval?"
Surya's blood ran cold. He had a skeletal building. He had zero safety compliance.
"They are coming on Monday," Lakshmi warned. "You have 48 hours to turn a construction site into a compliant college. Good luck, Principal."
Click.
Surya looked at the unfinished ceiling, the exposed wires, and the lack of toilets.
"System," Surya groaned. "How much KP to install fire extinguishers and a fake fire escape?"
[Current KP: 600.]
[Cost for 'Safety Illusion' Pack: 500 KP.]
"Do it," Surya commanded. "And buy me a suit. I need to look like I know what I'm doing."
The war for the Junior College had just begun.