Chapter 5 - The Metamorphosis
Dev did not head toward the soup kitchen at the temple, nor did he return to his usual cardboard bed beneath the flyover. Instead, he walked with steady, deliberate strides into the heart of Old Delhi’s labyrinthine alleys, where the scents of fried dough, diesel, and leather converged.
In a dark corner behind the spice market lived Mohan, an old tailor who had stitched suits for high society half a century ago before cataracts and whiskey ruined him. Mohan was one of the three people on earth who knew Dev’s true identity, sworn to secrecy by an ancient blood debt.
Dev pushed aside the heavy burlap curtain of the tailor's shop. A brass bell tinkled faintly.
""I told you, no more scraps today,"" an ancient voice barked from behind an archaic Singer sewing machine.
""Mohan,"" Dev said softly.
The tailor froze. The rhythmic pumping of the foot pedal ceased instantly. Mohan turned his milky, spectacled eyes toward the doorway, squinting into the gloom. He inhaled sharply, smelling not just the street, but the distinct scent of mustard oil and aged tobacco that Dev had carried since youth.
""Devendra?"" Mohan breathed, knocking over a spool of black thread. ""By the gods... you never come here. You promised never to walk these streets again.""
""A child fed me today, Mohan,"" Dev said, stepping into the dim yellow pool of light cast by a naked bulb. He unbuttoned his torn grey shirt, pulling out the signet ring and the brass key, setting them both onto the wooden cutting table. ""And with her food, she brought me my grave.""
Mohan looked at the ring, his wrinkled hands trembling as he touched the serpent crest. ""The boy Rajan... he has gone mad, Devendra. He killed your grandson Vikram. Now he hunts the widow and the children to seize the logistics empire. The board voting is today at five.""
May you like
Dev looked at the antique grandfather clock in the corner of the shop. It was 1:45 PM.
""Cut my hair, Mohan,"" Dev commanded quietly, his eyes burning with an authority that had been dormant for half a lifetime. ""Shave my beard. Find me a suit that fits a ghost. Today, the founder returns to the board.""
