In the heart of the modern city, amidst towering buildings and endless streams of people, a strange emptiness settled over "The Royal Lands"—an upscale apartment complex for the elite. People here had long forgotten their neighbours and, in the rush of busy lives, even themselves. The buildings blocked out the sunlight, casting a shadow over lives that passed each other with little more than the morning exchange of a polite "good morning." By day, the complex was nearly vacant, as children went off to school and parents to their jobs. From a distance, the polished interiors looked abandoned, as though this place was only a shell, a luxurious but hollow monument.
But it was different that day. At 9:30 a.m. an air of unease shrouded "The Royal Lands," disrupting its usual quiet monotony. Men in khaki uniforms roamed the corridors. Something unsettling had taken root within these concrete walls, disturbing the fragile illusion of peace.
Curious children, peeking through slightly ajar doors, were quickly ushered away by their parents. This was no time for innocent eyes or ears. Behind closed doors, whispers and anxious glances traded between neighbours painted a picture of unease. What had happened was too grave for casual gossip.
At the heart of the disturbance lay a single apartment, its entrance now sealed with police tape. Just beyond the barrier, officers clad in white gloves stood stiffly, their faces pale under the flickering hallway lights. Their rigid posture was a betrayal; whatever they had seen inside had shaken them to their core. Their widened eyes and uneasy glances spoke louder than words—something horrific had been discovered, something that would haunt their nights for a long time to come.
Outside the complex, a line of constables held back the media, their cameras flashing uselessly against the barrier that hid whatever lay beyond. But one man managed to slip through—dressed sharply in a black tailored suit, his polished shoes clicking softly against the pavement. A black tie hung neatly from his collar, completing his professional yet imposing appearance. He appeared to be in his forties, exuding an air of authority, his movements deliberate, as if he were no stranger to navigating unseen corridors of power.
Trailing behind him, almost unnoticed, were Manash and Vani. Their steps were light, their presence blending into the background, yet their eyes remained locked onto the man, following his lead into the unknown.
They entered through a lesser-known entrance, located in the parking lot just below the ground floor of the apartment complex. The area was enclosed by thick concrete walls that muffled the sounds from above and cut off nearly all-natural light. A few dim overhead lights flickered sporadically, their unsteady glow casting long, eerie shadows across the parked cars. The air was thick, carrying the faint scent of motor oil and damp concrete. This discreet passage, hidden from both the media and the public, was a secret known only to the residents—a shadowy corridor leading into the enigmatic heart of the building.
Vani and Manash were dressed simply—Vani in a black shirt and jeans, while Manash wore black pants paired with a plain white T-shirt. Both wore caps and half-masks, their faces partially obscured to ensure anonymity. The trio moved in silence, slipping unnoticed by the media as they made their way into the complex through the concealed entrance.
As they approached the sealed apartment, a police constable stepped forward, blocking their path.
"Where do you think you're going?" the constable demanded, his gaze flicking suspiciously to the young, partially hidden faces of Manash and Vani.
The man in the black tuxedo replied calmly, "I'm an investigating officer from 'Sector 108'."
The constable's eyes narrowed, unconvinced. "Sector 108? What on this damn world is that mean?" he sneered, grabbing the man's collar to pull him back.
Before the situation could escalate further, a sharp voice cut through the air, "Oi, Deepak!"
A higher-ranking officer approached, his presence commanding. The three silver stars on his shoulder epaulet marked him as an ACP. Beside him stood a young Sub-Inspector, her rank denoted by two silver stars.
The constable released his grip instantly, snapping to attention with a hasty salute. "Sir, this man was trying to enter with these two kids," he explained nervously.
The ACP's stern glare turned to the constable. "Do you even know who this man is?" he barked, his tone a mix of irritation and something bordering on reverence.
The constable froze, clearly unsure how to respond. The ACP turned to the man in the tuxedo, his demeanor softening. "My deepest apologies, sir. He didn't realize," the ACP said, his voice filled with respect.
"It's alright," the man replied with a slight nod, his tone calm and measured. "He was only doing his duty."
The ACP and the Sub-Inspector immediately clasped their hands in a respectful gesture. "Please forgive us, sir," the ACP added earnestly.
"It's fine," the man assured them, returning the greeting with a polite bow.
The ACP's attention shifted to Vani and Manash, who stood silently behind the man, their faces still partially hidden by their masks. Recognition flickered in his eyes. He joined his hands again, bowing slightly. "Are they…" His words faltered, replaced by an expression of reverence.
He straightened, addressing them directly. "Pranam. It is an honour to meet you both."
The constable was stunned as he watched the ACP's reaction, Manash and Vani returned the gesture. "Pranam, sir," they responded in unison.
The ACP regained his composure, gesturing toward the hallway. "Please, follow me. I'll take you to the scene."
He led the way down the hall, with the man and his young companions following closely behind, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the corridor.
As they neared the sealed apartment door, the ACP spoke up again. "By the way, sir, this is my junior colleague, Sub-Inspector Saya. She was also assigned by Sector 108." He gestured to the young woman in a crisp khaki uniform beside him.
The man turned to her, folding his hands respectfully. "Pranam, Saya. Please forgive me for not acknowledging you earlier. It's truly a pleasure to meet you."
Saya returned the gesture, her voice filled with gratitude and respect. "Thank you, sir, for allowing me the chance to serve and contribute to the cause."
The man nodded with a gentle smile, then turned his gaze to the sealed apartment door. There were only two constables stood at attention outside, while the others conducting interviews with the other residents in other floors. When they saw the ACP approaching with Sub-Inspector Saya, the man, and his two young companions, they saluted respectfully, though their eyes lingered on Manash and Vani, who appeared too young to be at such a scene and whose faces were half-hidden behind masks.
"Can you two leave us alone for a moment?" the ACP requested in a firm but polite tone. The constables exchanged a brief glance, saluted, and then moved off down the hall, still casting curious glances at Manash and Vani.
Once they were alone, the ACP turned to the man, his voice lowering as he spoke. "Sir, forgive me if I'm speaking out of line, but… inside, it's a mess. Like something straight out of hell."
He glanced at Manash and Vani, then added, "I apologize for stepping out of my place, it's just that… you both look so young…"
"No need to apologize," Manash replied calmly. "We are thankful for your concern." Vani nodded in quiet agreement beside him. The ACP then nodded back, realising that how they looked did not reflect what they truly ware.
The man turned toward the apartment door, his hand reaching for the handle. He glanced back at Manash and Vani, who gave him a small nod, signaling their readiness.
Taking a steadying breath, he twisted the handle and pushed the door open. Instantly, a gut-wrenching stench flooded the hallway—an overpowering, rotten odor that made Vani flinch and turn her face away. The smell was sickening, a grim preview of the horrors that awaited them inside.
They froze for a brief moment, hesitation lingering in the air, but the man in black forced himself to step inside. Manash and Vani followed, their expressions hardening as they crossed the threshold into the apartment.
As they entered, the silence was filled with thick air, the scene that greeted them was a new kind of hell, a nightmare brought to life. The dim lights from low-powered bulbs cast uneven shadows across the room, revealing glimpses of terror and chaos. The windows were shut tight, with only a silver of daylight slipping through the closed curtains. The oppressive darkness seemed to hold the horror within it, waiting to be discovered.
The man pressed a handkerchief tightly against his face, trying to shield himself from the gut-wrenching stench. Despite wearing masks over their noses and mouths, Manash and Vani could still feel the putrid, sickening smell crawling its way through. Manash pressed his hand firmly over his mask, desperately trying to hold his breath, while Vani hastily raised her handkerchief, her face pale as she struggled against the overwhelming odour.
The first thing they saw near the door was a half-naked body of an adult male. Laying in a dried, clotted pool of blood. His head was crushed beyond recognition, reduced to a splatter of fragments, bone sharded, teeth, and the remnants of rotten brain matter scattered grotesquely across the floor. A jagged, gaping hole in his chest exposed decayed remains of his heart and lungs, their smell clinging to the air like a physical weight.
Manash instinctively pressed his hand harder against his nose, his stomach lurching as bile rose in his throat. As a single question consumed his mind. What kind of monster could had done it? The terrifying strength to punched straight through a man's chest and with one step obliterated a human skull.
Their stomachs churned in disgust, they hesitated only for a moment before moving further into the room, careful not to step on the blood-soaked floor. The next body, that came into view, left them frozen, a man sliced vertically in half. His body was cleanly split cleanly from head to groin, with his innards spilled onto the floor, a grotesque pile of decayed flesh and organs with dried blood. The sharpness of the cut left Manash and Vani momentarily stunned.
'What could possibly do this?' Manash wanted to murmur, but the gut-wrenching stench was still making it impossible to even open his mouth.
The putrid stench of rotting flesh was unbearable now, making it almost impossible to hold their stomachs. Vani's stomach began to twisted hard, she managed to clutched her stomach, pressing the handkerchief more against her face.
Beyond the mangled corpse, near the smashed TV, was another corpse. This one was also fully naked, and his head was missing. The torn neck stump was jagged, the flesh around it was ripped unevenly as if the head had been yanked off with monstrous strength.
Manash's eyes narrowed as he saw a head smashed against the TV. He clenched his fist as he realised the brutality wasn't driven by hunger or instinct, something much darker had happened here.
Near the sofa, they found two more bodies. The first was looked like a young man, his torso had been split open from his head to abdomen. His hollow eye sockets were grotesque, as though his eyes had been violently punched through. Manash's mind recoiled at the thought of something shoving its thumbs into the man's eyes, and splitting his skull in two all the way to the abdomen with terrifying force.
The second body near the sofa was somehow even more grotesque. The man lay completely naked, he looked older, seemed in his mid-forties, his expression was frozen in terror. his stomach had been torn wide open, his intestine spilled out onto the floor in a twisted heap of decayed flesh and organs. His lifeless, wide eyes seemed to reflect a moment of pure, frozen horror.
Vani stumbled back, unable to take any more. She turned her face away, her eyes watering from the unbearable stench. Her gaze landed on something else—a few packets of white powder scattered across the floor. Some were intact, but others had burst, their contents mixing with the blood and gore. Nearby, several shattered bottles of alcohol. As the smell of liquor also mingling with the stench of the decayed bodies. On the table held similar packets; some white substance was also smeared with dried blood, as one glass bong also lay on the table, its glass was also cracked.
In the middle of the carnage, Manash's attention drawn to something familiar. Buried beneath the guts of the disembowelled man. He crouched down, slipping on a pair of white gloves, he carefully reached beneath the gore and pulled out a blood-spattered ID card. His heart was pounded as he wiped away the crimson blood stains, revealing something all too familiar.
The logo of Aditya High School stared back at him. His breath hitched as he stared at the picture and name on the card.
Nira.
Her name burned into his mind as dread crept over him like a shadow.
"Vani…" Manash broke the silence at last, his voice heavy with disbelief. "Look at this."
Vani hesitated, clutching the handkerchief tightly against her face, but stepped closer. Her eyes widened in shock as they fell upon the ID card.
"That… Nira?" she murmured, her voice trembling.
The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. One of their classmates—someone they had seen and spoken to—was now tied to this nightmare. Her absence from school over the past three days suddenly took on a terrifying new significance.
Manash's thoughts churned. Why was her ID here? Was she a victim—or worse, part of this gruesome scene? His mind raced with unanswered questions, each one heavier than the last.
The man with them, still pressing a handkerchief to his nose, approached cautiously. "What is it?" he asked, his voice muffled.
Manash held up the ID card, his expression grim. "This belongs to someone we know," he said quietly. "It can't become part of the evidence… not yet. Do you have something to store it?"
The man nodded and pulled out an evidence bag. Manash carefully slipped the card inside before removing his gloves and adding them to the bag as well.
"Make sure no one finds this," Manash said, his tone firm, almost commanding. "We need to figure out what's going on with her before this gets out."
The man gave a tense nod, sealing the bag and slipping it into his pocket.
Manash and Vani turned toward the door, desperate to leave the suffocating nightmare behind. The horrifying images lingered in their minds, refusing to fade. Their steps were heavy, their breaths shallow as they crossed the threshold into the hallway. The fresh air hit them like a reprieve, yet their hearts remained burdened with unanswered questions.
Outside, the ACP and Sub-Inspector Saya stood waiting. Their eyes scanned the trio, noting the haunted expressions etched on their faces. The man in black finally removed the handkerchief from his face and turned to the officers.
"Who owns this apartment?" he asked, his tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of urgency.
"The owner's name is Abhinash Gupta," Saya replied promptly. "Neighbours say he was a local singer. Quite wealthy, too—he owned three other apartments in this building."
The man nodded thoughtfully, his gaze distant. "Anything else?"
Saya hesitated, then continued, "He lived alone and always kept his door locked from the inside. But he was a friendly man—always singing at kids' birthday parties, bringing chocolates and treats for them. Everyone liked him. No one suspected anything unusual."
The ACP, who had been watching the man intently, spoke up, his voice tentative. "What do you think, sir? Could it be…something entered and tried to devour them?"
"No," Vani interjected quietly, breaking the oppressive silence.
All eyes turned to her. She hesitated, her voice trembling as she tried to articulate the unsettling thoughts swirling in her mind. Manash stepped in, his voice steady despite the weight of his thoughts.
"Whatever did this," he said grimly, "it wasn't hunger."
A heavy silence followed his words, pressing down on them like an unseen force. Each of them grappled with the sheer terror of the unknown. The man in black, visibly struggling to maintain his composure, took a steadying breath and turned to the ACP.
"We'll need to talk more," he said, his voice calm but laden with the gravity of the situation.
"Of course, sir," the ACP replied with a nod, his tone tight.
The man then turned to Saya. "Can you take them back to the ashram? They shouldn't stay here any longer."
Without hesitation, Saya accepted the car keys he handed her. "Yes, sir," she said firmly.
Turning back to Manash and Vani, the man folded his hands in a respectful gesture. "I'll meet you soon."
Manash and Vani nodded in return, joining their hands mirroring the gesture of respect.
"Please, follow me," Saya said, her voice gentle as she led them back to the basement parking area of the apartment.