-[ Chapter 3 Recap – Yash survives maa ke taane (mom's sarcasm) and exam week, secretly using his jugaad (hacky) superpower to escape lauki (bottle gourd) curry and family drama. Post-exams, he celebrates with "light reading" (intense BDSM smut), blissfully unaware he's strolled into a desi (local) magical warzone. Plot twist: Wizards in Harry Potter knockoff robes vs. a girl squad hurling spells. Highlight? A dude literally farting fire. When an RPG missile (rocket-propelled gaali / rocket-propelled curse) targets Yash, his panic reflex turns it to mitti (dust), leaving everyone shook. Now, the magic gang's like, "Ye anomaly kya bawasir hai? (What fresh hell is this anomaly?)". ]-
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Chapter 4 – Magic, Money, and Maa-Baap ka Natak (Parental Drama)
Yash stood frozen as the battlefield settled, the last traces of the RPG-turned-dust drifting in the air. His mind was already struggling to keep up, but then—she stepped forward.
And for some godforsaken reason, everything slowed down.
Her long black hair flowed dramatically, swaying in the wind that seemingly came out of nowhere. The dim glow of streetlights reflected off her sharp features—high cheekbones, piercing brown eyes, and an air of complete control. Her dark blue blazer hugged her figure perfectly, exuding an aura of power. With each step, her heels clicked against the pavement in a way that sounded far more cinematic than necessary.
Yash blinked.
Wait… where is this wind even coming from?
At that exact moment, the suited bodyguards also had the same thought.
"Sir, is someone using wind magic?" one guard whispered to another.
"No, but… should we pretend this is normal?"
"Probably. Boss lady is in the zone."
Oblivious to the mental breakdown happening in her security team, Mithra Varma—because of course, she had a name fancy enough to match her grand entrance—finally reached Yash.
"You," she said, voice firm. "Come with me."
Yash, still partially entranced, snapped out of his thoughts. "Huh?"
One of the suited men stepped forward, glaring. "The young lady gave you an order."
"Yeah, and I don't even take orders from my mother. What makes you think I'll listen to—"
Before he could finish, Mithra sighed. "Look, I don't have time for this. You walked into a barrier, survived an RPG, and turned it into dust. You owe me an explanation."
"Excuse me? You're the one who nearly got me killed!" Yash shot back. "You deflected that RPG straight at me!"
"…Fair point."
She crossed her arms, then softened her tone. "Just come with me. I promise we won't harm you. Let's talk somewhere more private."
Yash narrowed his eyes. This whole situation screamed 'Main character enters shady villain lair, never returns,' but his curiosity—and the fact that they probably wouldn't let him walk away—made him sigh.
"Fine. But if this is some weird kidnapping scheme, just know I have no money. I am an engineer."
The girl gave him an unimpressed look. "I doubt anyone would bother kidnapping a guy whose t-shirt has a Maggi stain from last week."
Yash scowled but followed her anyway.
A few minutes later, they entered a quiet café on a less crowded street. The place had a warm atmosphere, with dim lighting, soft jazz playing, and the comforting smell of freshly brewed coffee.
Yash glanced at the menu. Huh. No cutting chai? Truly a scam artist's den.
The girl led him to a secluded corner, and as soon as they sat down, she waved her hand subtly.
A faint shimmer surrounded them before disappearing.
Yash raised an eyebrow. "Did you just cast a 'Don't disturb' spell?"
She smirked. "Something like that. It's a barrier—people outside won't be able to hear us. This is the same type of barrier you walked into earlier. Normally, normal people can't enter unless allowed."
Yash leaned back, crossing his arms. "Well, I've never been normal."
The girl's eyes studied him carefully. "Clearly."
A waiter approached, and they ordered coffee—black for her, cappuccino for Yash.
Once they were alone, she rested her elbows on the table and spoke.
"Let's start simple. My name is Mithra Varma. And you are?"
"Yash," he replied casually, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Last name?"
"…Shah."
Mithra gave him a knowing look. "And what exactly are you, Yash Shah?"
"Just a guy who had an unfortunate accident with a laptop, some chai, and CloseAI, all because of a fucking reel sent by my friend." he said smoothly.
She didn't look convinced. "So you're saying you randomly woke up one day with the ability to turn objects into dust?"
"Yep."
Mithra squinted at him, as if analyzing every word.
Yash stayed calm, avoiding giving any extra details. He didn't trust her yet.
A moment later, she leaned back, sighing. "You're telling the truth. And it doesn't seem like you are a part of any organization either."
Yash tilted his head. "You can tell?"
"I can sense lies," she admitted. "And you? You're an anomaly."
"That's just a polite way of saying 'Weird as hell,' isn't it?"
Mithra ignored him. "You walking into the barrier? That should have been impossible. It's designed to keep out normal people. And yet, you entered it, deconstructed a part of it, and survived."
Yash shrugged. "I'm just built different."
Mithra pinched the bridge of her nose. "You don't understand, do you? The supernatural exists in this world. My family, the Varma Family, is part of it. The world you think is normal? It's just the surface layer."
She gave him a moment to digest the information.
Yash sipped his coffee. "Okay, so you're saying the world's secretly full of wizards, fire-farters, and people with rocket launchers?"
"Yes."
"…Fair. This honestly explains a lot of things about Mumbai traffic."
Mithra exhaled slowly. "Listen, your abilities are new and untrained. If you continue like this, you'll expose yourself, and trust me—you don't want to attract the wrong people."
She leaned forward. "That's why I have a proposal."
Yash raised an eyebrow.
"I can train you and help you understand your abilities. In exchange, you'll join the Varma Family and work for me."
Yash smirked. "Damn, you got so charmed by me that you already want me in your family? At least take me on a date first."
Mithra blinked, then her face flushed slightly. "T-That's not what I meant!"
Yash chuckled. "Nah, but if you insist, I'd rather have you take my family name than me taking yours."
Mithra's eye twitched.
She cleared her throat, regaining composure. "Let's talk business. I'll pay you 7 lakhs."
Yash's smirk faded. "That's too little."
Mithra tapped her fingers on the table. "Fine. 9 lakhs."
Yash leaned back, smug. "Per year?"
"Per month."
Yash froze.
A moment of silence passed before he burst out laughing. "PER MONTH!? I was about to reject it thinking you meant per year!"
Mithra's annoyance skyrocketed. "You—! Are you an idiot!?"
Yash wiped a fake tear. "For that price, I might even consider taking your family name."
Mithra's bodyguard, who had been silent the whole time, finally snapped.
"Watch your words! You're speaking to the heiress of the Varma Family—daughter of Devraj Varma!"
Yash's laughter stopped instantly.
His brain caught up.
Devraj Varma.
That wasn't just any name. That was the kingmaker of Indian politics—a man whose influence stretched from government deals to corporate empires. A VERY powerful man.
Yash gulped. "Yeah… uh, give me a few days to think about it."
Mithra nodded, leaving a business card on the table before walking out.
Yash sighed, put on his headphones, and resumed reading smut.
"Oh, nice. The author dropped a new chapter."
And just like that, life continued.
After parting ways with Mithra, Yash made his way home, his mind still processing everything that had happened. Secret supernatural families? Fire-farting mages? A 9 Lakh per month salary!? Life had escalated real quick.
He reached home just in time for dinner. His mother, Chhaya, had cooked aloo paratha (potato-stuffed flatbread), and his father, Kamlesh, was already seated at the dining table, scrolling through his phone while absentmindedly chewing on a piece.
Yash sat down and dug in. "Damn, Maa, this is good."
Chhaya beamed. "Of course! If I don't cook properly, your father will start complaining like some hotel critic."
Kamlesh scoffed. "Arre, all I said last time was that the dal had too much salt—"
"Too much salt!? You said it tasted like the Dead Sea!"
Yash suppressed a laugh as his parents continued their usual bickering. It was a comforting sight after the madness of the day.
After dinner, Yash grabbed a soda and settled down in the living room with his father, who was now watching the news. It was the usual—corrupt politicians, some celebrity getting trolled, and a viral clip of a cat attacking a delivery guy.
Yash decided now was a good time to get some intel. "Hey, Dad, tell me something about politics."
Kamlesh raised an eyebrow. "Politics? Since when did you care?"
"No reason," Yash said, playing it cool. Then, after a pause, he smirked. "Or maybe I just think Devraj Varma's daughter is too cute."
Kamlesh nearly choked on his soda.
Chhaya, who was walking by with a plate, stopped mid-step and turned sharply. "What?"
"Nothing, Maa," Yash said quickly, waving her off before turning back to his dad. "So, tell me about this guy. I've heard his name before, but what makes him so powerful?"
Kamlesh chuckled but leaned back into the couch, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"The Varma family has always been a force in politics," Kamlesh began. "For centuries, they've controlled power from the shadows, placing kings, ministers, and prime ministers in seats of authority. Their network? Unmatched. Their influence? Undeniable."
Yash listened intently. This wasn't just some self-made mastermind story—the Varma family had always been kingmakers.
"But every generation, someone has to prove themselves worthy of leading the family," Kamlesh continued. "Devraj Varma? He didn't just inherit power—he earned it."
Yash frowned. "How?"
"By playing the game better than anyone else." Kamlesh's voice lowered slightly, as if sharing a well-kept secret. "When Devraj took control, the political scene was a mess. The old ways weren't working, and rival families were waiting for him to fail."
Yash's interest peaked. "And?"
"And he didn't." Kamlesh smiled. "Instead, he rewrote the rules. While others played checkers, he played three-dimensional chess. If an opponent rose too high, scandals appeared. If an ally lost favor, public sympathy saved them. If a policy needed passing, votes mysteriously aligned."
Yash whistled. "Damn. That's some next-level manipulation."
Kamlesh nodded. "He turned the Varma name into a symbol of absolute power. Today? Even Prime Ministers owe him favors."
Yash leaned back. That explains a lot. If the Varma family was this powerful in politics, who knew what they were hiding on the supernatural side?
Kamlesh then smiled and added, "Oh, and his wife—Amrita Varma. Now, there's a woman with a presence."
Yash took a sip of his soda. "Yeah?"
"Elegant, intelligent, and always composed. She never needed to be loud; people listened to her anyway. Even today, politicians twice her age greet her with folded hands." Kamlesh shook his head. "Honestly, if she had ever run for office, she would've—"
WHACK!
A sudden tug on his ear cut him off mid-sentence.
Chhaya had descended upon him like divine retribution.
"Oh? So now you're out here praising some other woman in front of me?" she said sweetly—too sweetly.
Kamlesh panicked. "N-No, I was just explaining to Yash—"
"Explaining!? Since when do you care so much about other people's wives, haan?"
Before he could defend himself, she dragged him off the couch by his ear, pulling him toward their bedroom like a mother disciplining a naughty child.
Kamlesh desperately locked eyes with Yash, silently pleading, 'Save me, beta!'
Yash, being a dutiful son, immediately found the newspaper on the couch fascinating.
"Wow… so many words… such interesting news… I should really read more often."
Kamlesh's betrayed cry of "YASH, YOU TRAITOR!" echoed through the house as he disappeared behind the bedroom door.
Yash smirked and went to his room for the night.
Once inside his room, Yash powered on his laptop and Googled the Varma family.
Surprisingly, nothing seemed too out of place. All articles mentioned Devraj Varma's political influence, his daughter Mithra Varma's involvement in business, and Amrita Varma's occasional charity work. But nothing hinted at anything supernatural.
Figures. They were too good at keeping secrets.
After a while, he gave up and leaned back. Guess I'll have to dig deeper some other time.
With a sigh, he shut his laptop and sat cross-legged on his bed, meditating.
Ever since discovering his powers, he had been practicing controlling his emotions. It was the only way to prevent random destruction.
He focused, clearing his mind.
Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out.
Slowly, the tension in his body faded, and his thoughts became distant.
Whatever decision he had to make about Mithra and her offer…
That was future Yash's problem.
And with that, he collapsed onto his bed and drifted off to sleep.
-[End]-