Riku was faint smirking with his eyes closed but was quickly jolted back to reality by a voice.
"Damn it, have you really gone insane?" Akhil shouted.
Riku looked up at him and paused. Now occupying Rohit’s body, he quickly deduced the risk—any sign of change could get him labelled a lunatic or worse, an imposter. But habits are hard to kill, persona forged from lived experiences aren’t easily faked. There was only one path forward: play the part, but bend the rules: feign convincing memory loss.
He scowled. "How would you react if you found yourself tied up in a strange place, surrounded by thugs who beat you black and blue without a word of negotiation? Would you be calm and sane? And while we’re at it, who the f.u.ck are you? — Are you in cahoots with these m.o.r.o.n.s? Why the hell am I tied up like this? Did I steal their mom’s p.a.n.t.i.e.s or something?"
He inwardly remarked, ’Damn, why am I so polite? Even my sarcasm feels like a poem. Is it the language change or just my boy like voice? ’
Akhil stood dumbfounded, unaware of Rohit’s inner monologue. The language Rohit used was far too rough, laced with sharp edges and heavy with slangs.
None of this made sense. His friend—once cultured, formal, and polished—was now speaking like a D-grade thug from a cheap movie. He sounded more like someone from the slums than the billionaire’s son he actually was.
But then Akhil noticed the blood trickling down his friend’s forehead. He stiffened.
Oh shit... he’s actually lost his memory.
Choked by helplessness, Akhil hesitantly explained whatever he could vaguely in limited time.
Rohit, maintaining his stoic and unreadable face, listened quietly. But inwardly, Riku smirked. Good god, he took the bait.
As Akhil finished, Riku, now as Rohit, spoke flatly, "So what you’re telling me is, we’ve been kidnapped because they want me to agree to their ridiculous ransom demands of ten lakhs of rupees (approx. 11,500 dollars), which they think is some pocket change for me... And on top of that, I have to arrange girls for them like some p.i.m.p and let them enjoy my family resort as if I’m renting it from them?"
Akhil stared in disbelief. "Wait... You said you lost your memory, but you’re still able to think like that?"
Rohit clicked his tongue. "Listen, brat. Memory loss doesn’t mean I turn into a baby or something. I’m working off instinct. Things are coming back in flashes. Besides, danger hasn’t passed yet."
Akhil nodded slowly. That... actually made sense.
He asked in a low, cautious voice, "What should we do if the Harsha’s gang comes back?"
The Harsha’s Gang was a small squad gang named after its cold leader, who was behind the whole thing. They were notorious school delinquents with rumoured underworld ties. The ringleader, Anirudh, handled negotiations. Triloki, the brute, delivered the beatings. And Harsha himself, being silent, dangerous, and calculating, held the real power as he worked for the main boss in school.
Despite Rohit’s social status, they didn’t give a damn about his status and often bullied him, despite being a small gang of delinquents.
Rohit gave it a moment’s thought, but footsteps echoed up the stairs. He whispered, "Just stay quiet."
Before Akhil could ask anything else, the door slammed open.
Three boys entered, one after another, their hierarchy on full display. Triloki stepped in first, smug as ever. "Ready for another beating?"
Next came Anirudh, nerdy-looking with glasses—but far more ruthless than he appeared. "We can end this now if you just accept our terms," he said casually.
Then came Harsh—sharp-featured, silent, his eyes cold and calculating. Just his presence was enough to make Akhil flinch.
Riku, still in Rohit’s body, scoffed inwardly. Seriously, a brat like you got a hot married teacher as a sex partner?? unbelievable.
Triloki pulled out a hockey stick from a storage package nearby. Rohit made a mental note—this must be a local hockey equipment warehouse. Before Triloki could raise the stick, Rohit calmly said, "I accept. All terms."
Anirudh grinned. "Smart choice." But deep down, he couldn’t be less thrilled. He’d never imagined this m.o.r.o.n of a guy, would actually agree—they’d just wanted to have some fun and see what kind of payout they could squeeze out of it. He knew the guy too well; there was no way he’d back out after saying yes.
Harsha raised an eyebrow. Even Akhil looked like he’d been hit by a truck. Why would Rohit agree, even with their lives on the line?
Triloki wasn’t pleased. "What?! But I’m not done with this facef.u.ck! I want to beat him more!"
Rohit replied dryly, "Then you’ll get less money. I’ll need to pay my hospital bills from whatever I give you. You don’t expect my parents to cover that too, right? They already think my pocket money is enough for everything."
Triloki paused, scratching his chin. He then turned toward Akhil. "Then I’ll beat him instead."
But Rohit quickly added, "Even that’s my expense. He’s my friend. I’ll have to pay for his bills too."
Triloki growled, "This is getting hard to believe..."
Harsha finally spoke. "Enough. Our business is done."
He stepped forward and grabbed Rohit’s hair, examining him. "He looks different. But I like it," he said with a dark chuckle. Then he turned to his lackeys. "Send the money to Triloki or Anirudh... the usual way." He turned to his lackeys as he took out his phone, going out before saying, "Get them out of here."
The lackeys moved to blindfold them again.
Before they could, Rohit demanded, "The video."
Harsha smirked. "You do your part... we’ll do ours."
Anirudh chimed in with a grin, "And if you even whisper to the police or your family..." He trailed off, his smile enough to deliver the threat.
The message was clear: leak anything, and the video would go viral.
Soon after, both boys were thrown into a van and later dropped off, but unchained, at the school courtyard.
Akhil pulled off his blindfold and grabbed Rohit’s shoulder, shouting, "You liar! What have you done? You said you lost your memories!"
Rohit slapped him—hard enough to knock him down.
Pointing a finger at him, he snapped, "Listen up—First, you ain’t got no right to judge me when I’m knee-deep in shit because of you. Second, you’re going to stick with me like a damn servant until we get out of this. And third... don’t you dare tell anyone what happened. Not a word!"
Akhil rubbed his cheek as he struggled to keep his tears in check. He couldn’t believe how much one man could change just from a hit on the head.
But Rohit was right.
Now Akhil had to pay for whatever he had caused—even if it meant becoming the servant of a devil in human flesh who doesn’t bat an eye to hit his best friend in times of need.