By the morning after Episode One, Pyaar Kii Ye Ek Kahaani was no longer merely a new supernatural romance.
It had become a conversation.
College students quoted Abhay’s:
“Shh.
Too loud.”
Short-video platforms were filled with edits of Piya glaring at him beside his car.
The phrase—
“I am fire.
You will burn if you love me.”
—had crossed every major entertainment region of the Eastern Federation.
Huaxia audiences were claiming Li Yichen.
Bharat audiences were pointing indignantly at the name Krishna Vardhan.
Korean audiences had already fallen in love with Misha.
Sakura forums were dissecting Abhay’s supernatural mannerisms frame by frame.
And somewhere inside all that noise— the people who had watched Episode One together were waiting.
Not casually anymore.
They wanted Episode Two.
Before Broadcast
At six-thirty in the evening, Sangam Federal University’s Room 407 had already become a war zone.
Meera Kapoor entered carrying snacks.
Lin Xiaoyu had connected the main screen.
Park So-min was sitting on the floor.
Aiko Nakamura was checking discussion forums.
Sara Qureshi was staring at the fan page she had created only the previous night.
Meera dropped onto the bed.
“How many?”
Sara didn’t answer.
“How many followers?”
Sara slowly turned the phone.
43,281
Silence.
Xiaoyu blinked.
“You created it yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Sara pointed toward a picture of Abhay.
“Apparently this.”
Meera looked offended.
“The page is called Abhiya Forever.
Piya contributed.”
“Fine.”
Sara changed the image to Piya and Abhay facing one another.
“Apparently these.”
So-min nodded.
“Better.”
Aiko was reading comments.
“People are arguing over whether Piya resembles Abhay’s previous lover.”
Meera sat forward.
“Obviously she does.”
“You saw half a portrait.”
“Enough.”
Xiaoyu shook her head.
“You’ve become a conspiracy theorist after one episode.”
“This is called narrative intelligence.”
“It’s called obsession.”
“Same thing.”
The countdown appeared.
EPISODE TWO — 00:00:30
Everyone became silent.
Across the campus in the boys’ hostel—
Rohan Malhotra walked into Room 219.
Sameer Khan looked at him.
“You came voluntarily.”
Rohan froze.
Chen Wei slowly grinned.
Rohan pointed toward the screen.
“I want to see what happens with the portrait.”
Min-jun laughed.
“Yesterday you said vampire romance was stupid.”
“Yesterday I lacked information.”
Haruto Sato didn’t even look up.
“Character development.”
Everyone laughed.
At sixty-seven-year-old Savitri Mehra’s home, granddaughter Rhea noticed something suspicious.
Her grandmother had made tea before the episode.
Two cups.
And already changed the television to the correct channel.
Rhea sat down slowly.
“Grandma?”
“Hm?”
“You remembered the time.”
“I possess a clock.”
“You said you weren’t interested.”
Savitri looked offended.
“I am evaluating the young man’s acting.”
“Of course.”
“And the girl’s.”
“Naturally.”
“Stop smiling.”
Rhea tried.
Failed.
Retired Professor Liang Guowei had taken things further.
He had a notebook.
His wife Zhou Meilin stared.
“What is that?”
“Notes.”
“About?”
“The mythology.”
Meilin stared.
“You are taking academic notes about a vampire romance.”
Liang adjusted his glasses.
“If the writers establish supernatural rules inconsistently, I intend to notice.”
His wife smiled.
“Of course, Professor.”
Retired Japanese stage actor Kenji Watanabe sat with granddaughter Miyu.
This time— she hadn’t asked him to join.
He arrived himself.
Miyu wisely said nothing.
Kenji noticed her smile.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
“You remembered Episode Two.”
Kenji folded his arms.
“I want to see whether the boy can sustain the performance.”
“Naturally.”
Everyone had excuses.
Nobody wanted to admit the same thing.
They were waiting for Abhay Raichand and Piya Jaiswal.
Episode Two
The episode opened with morning sunlight.
Mount College.
Students.
Laughter.
Normality.
For approximately twenty seconds— there was no vampire.
No mystery.
No dark mansion.
Then Piya entered the frame.
Ju Jingyi’s Piya was walking toward class while searching inside her bag.
Notebook.
Pen.
College ID.
She stopped.
Frowned.
Something else was in her hand.
A dark leather wallet.
She stared.
Then memory returned.
Abhay leaving beside the car.
The argument.
His hand going briefly toward his jacket before he entered the driver’s seat.
Piya opened the wallet.
Inside— cards.
Several.
Student registration.
A premium banking card.
Identification.
Other important documents.
She immediately closed it.
“So he dropped this.”
She looked around.
Abhay wasn’t there.
Her expression became annoyed.
“Wonderful.”
She had every intention of giving it to him later.
Then she noticed the address printed on one of the college registration papers partly visible inside.
Piya hesitated.
“Tomorrow.”
She put it into her bag.
Then stopped again.
What if someone stole it?
What if the cards were important?
She remembered Abhay’s personality.
Then muttered:
“He’ll probably accuse me of breathing on it too.”
Yet she still decided to return it.
In the girls’ hostel, Meera pointed.
“Don’t go.”
Xiaoyu laughed.
“What?”
“Never voluntarily go to the mysterious vampire’s mansion.”
“He hasn’t been confirmed as a vampire.”
“Look at him.”
“That’s not scientific evidence.”
“It is enough.”
Sara said:
“She has his wallet.”
So-min corrected:
“Reasonable reason to go.”
Aiko calmly added:
“From a horror-story perspective, absolutely terrible reason to go.”
The Raichand Mansion
Evening.
Piya arrived before enormous iron gates.
She looked upward.
The Raichand Mansion stood beyond them.
Old.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
But strangely quiet.
Piya stared.
“This is where he lives?”
The doors opened after she rang.
A woman stood inside.
Elegant.
Perfectly composed.
Her name—
Haseena Raichand.
Abhay’s mother.
At least— to the world.
Piya smiled politely.
“Hello.”
Haseena’s expression froze.
For perhaps half a second— she forgot to breathe.
The girl.
The face.
That face.
Impossible.
Piya noticed.
“Ma’am?”
Haseena immediately recovered.
Years of concealment returned.
Polite smile.
Controlled posture.
“Yes?”
Piya hesitated.
“I’m looking for Abhay.”
Haseena’s eyes sharpened almost invisibly.
“Why?”
The question came more quickly than expected.
Piya blinked.
“He dropped something.”
Haseena looked toward her bag.
Piya removed the wallet.
“This.”
Haseena stared.
Then called:
“Abhay.”
Footsteps came from deeper inside the mansion.
Abhay appeared.
Krishna entered the scene slowly.
The moment he saw Piya— his body stopped.
Only briefly.
But this time the audience already knew to watch.
His eyes changed.
Not surprise.
Alarm.
Why was she here?
At his home?
Near his family?
Near everything she shouldn’t see?
Then— coldness.
“What are you doing here?”
Piya’s expression immediately became annoyed.
“Hello to you too.”
Haseena looked between them.
Something troubled entered her eyes.
She turned toward Abhay.
“Take her outside.”
Abhay looked toward his mother.
Their eyes met.
A silent conversation.
Too dangerous.
Too close.
Get her away.
Abhay understood.
He turned.
“Come.”
Piya stared.
“You’re very welcoming.”
No answer.
She followed.
At Savitri Mehra’s house, Rhea leaned forward.
“His mother recognized her.”
Savitri nodded.
“Obviously.”
“How?”
“Same woman from the portrait.”
“You noticed?”
Savitri looked offended.
“I was watching.”
Rhea smiled.
Her grandmother was definitely invested.
Professor Liang was writing.
Meilin looked over.
“What now?”
“Haseena doesn’t merely resemble someone surprised.”
“What does she resemble?”
“Someone frightened.”
Meilin stopped smiling.
Liang pointed toward the screen.
“That family knows Piya’s face.”
Outside the Mansion
Abhay and Piya walked toward the gates.
Silence.
Abhay’s pace was controlled.
But Krishna added something underneath it.
Tension.
His shoulders appeared relaxed— yet his eyes repeatedly checked their surroundings.
Piya didn’t notice.
The audience did.
Finally Abhay spoke.
“You could have given it to me tomorrow.”
Piya frowned.
“What?”
“The wallet.”
He turned.
“There was no reason to come here.”
His voice was cold.
Too cold.
Piya stopped.
“I came because there are cards in it.”
Abhay’s jaw tightened.
“Still unnecessary.”
Piya stared.
“Important cards.”
“Replaceable.”
“Identification.”
“Replaceable.”
“Money.”
“I have more.”
Piya’s expression slowly became furious.
“Do you practice being rude or does it happen naturally?”
Abhay looked away.
Krishna’s expression remained cold.
But his eyes— didn’t.
Fear.
Concern.
He wanted her gone.
Not because she annoyed him.
Because something inside this mansion could hurt her.
Because she looked like someone she shouldn’t resemble.
Because being close to him was already dangerous.
Piya didn’t know any of that.
She only saw arrogance.
“I came all the way here because I thought these were important.”
Abhay said:
“You shouldn’t have.”
That sentence carried much more weight than Piya understood.
Viewers felt it.
Piya stared.
“You’re unbelievable.”
She shoved the wallet toward him.
Abhay took it.
“Thank you.”
The politeness almost made it worse.
Piya pointed toward him.
“Don’t thank me now!”
Abhay remained still.
“I already did.”
“You’re impossible!”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Whoever told you was correct.”
Piya turned sharply.
Walked away.
Abhay watched her.
His expression remained cold until her back was toward him.
Then— everything changed.
His eyes followed her.
Complicated.
Worried.
Almost reluctant.
He wanted to call her back.
Wanted her farther away.
Both emotions existed simultaneously.
He whispered so softly she couldn’t hear:
“You shouldn’t have come.”
Then turned toward the mansion.
The Audience Notices
At Sangam University, Room 407 had gone quiet.
So-min pointed.
“There.”
Aiko nodded immediately.
Meera frowned.
“What?”
“He isn’t angry at her.”
Xiaoyu leaned closer.
“He’s scared.”
Sara replayed the final expression.
Meera stared.
“Oh.”
So-min said:
“He’s trying to keep her away.”
Aiko nodded.
“Which means something in that house is dangerous.”
Meera hugged the cushion.
“This is getting good.”
The boys’ hostel noticed too.
Rohan said:
“Okay.”
Sameer looked over.
“What?”
“He cares.”
Chen Wei nodded.
“Obviously.”
Rohan pointed.
“He was looking around the entire time.”
Haruto finally paused the screen.
“Protective surveillance.”
Everyone turned.
Rohan laughed.
“Protective what?”
Haruto pointed toward Abhay’s posture.
“He never fully turned his back toward the mansion while Piya was outside.”
The boys looked again.
He was right.
Min-jun stared.
“That’s a very specific acting decision.”
Haruto nodded.
“Exactly.”
Kenji Watanabe smiled slightly.
Miyu noticed.
“You liked that?”
“He knows where the character’s attention is.”
“What do you mean?”
Kenji pointed at Krishna.
“His dialogue tells Piya to leave.”
“But his body tells the audience why.”
Miyu looked fascinated.
Kenji continued:
“Good acting often occurs where dialogue and body disagree.”
She looked back toward Krishna.
“So Abhay says he doesn’t want her there…”
“…but he’s protecting her.”
Kenji nodded.
“Exactly.”
Inside
The mansion doors closed.
Abhay entered.
Haseena was waiting.
She no longer looked composed.
“What is she doing here?”
Abhay took off his jacket.
“Returning my wallet.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
Her voice echoed through the hall.
Abhay stopped.
Haseena stepped closer.
“How?”
Abhay remained silent.
“How can she look like her?”
His eyes hardened.
“She doesn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
“You saw her.”
Abhay finally turned.
“She resembles her.”
Haseena stared.
“Resembles?”
“Yes.”
“That face—”
“Is not hers.”
His voice became colder.
“She is Piya Jaiswal.”
Haseena whispered:
“And you believe that?”
Abhay’s expression remained indifferent.
“Because it’s true.”
“Abhay—”
“She looks like her.”
He paused.
“That doesn’t make her the same person.”
Haseena’s fear didn’t disappear.
“You shouldn’t go near her.”
Abhay looked toward the staircase.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Haseena stared at him.
The audience knew immediately— that was a lie.
Not necessarily to Haseena.
Perhaps to himself.
Professor Liang stopped writing.
Meilin looked over.
“What?”
He spoke slowly.
“He wants to believe resemblance is coincidence.”
“Yes.”
“But his mother doesn’t.”
“Yes.”
“Therefore either she’s seen this happen before…”
“…or she knows something Abhay doesn’t.”
Meilin stared.
Then smiled.
“You’re enjoying this.”
Liang immediately looked offended.
“I’m analyzing.”
“Of course.”
The Portrait
Abhay entered his room.
Closed the door.
The atmosphere changed.
No Piya.
No mother.
No need to pretend.
He walked toward the portrait.
The same woman from Episode One.
This time the camera showed slightly more.
Not everything.
Enough.
The resemblance was undeniable.
Abhay stared.
Krishna allowed silence to stretch.
Then touched the edge of the frame.
His cold expression slowly fractured.
A memory flashed.
A woman smiling beneath another sky.
Her voice— unclear.
A hand slipping from his.
Blood.
Fire.
Then—
Piya.
Abhay opened his eyes.
His voice was barely audible.
“You’re not her.”
Another pause.
“You can’t be.”
He sounded like someone trying to convince himself.
At Room 407—
Meera whispered:
“He’s doomed.”
Xiaoyu looked at her.
“Already?”
“Completely.”
Sara nodded.
“He’s telling himself she’s not the same person.”
Aiko added:
“Which means emotionally he’s already treating her like she might be.”
So-min hugged a pillow.
“Episode Two and he’s already suffering.”
Meera replied:
“Good romance.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What?”
Piya Calls Misha
Outside the Raichand estate, Piya walked along the dark road.
Her anger was gradually being replaced by another realization.
She didn’t know where she was.
Piya stopped.
Looked around.
No bus.
No taxi.
No visible public transport.
She closed her eyes.
“Wonderful.”
Phone out.
Misha.
One ring.
Two.
“Misha?”
“What happened?”
Silence.
“Where are you?”
Piya looked toward the mansion behind her.
“Raichand Mansion.”
Longer silence.
Then:
“Why?”
Piya replied:
“Don’t ask.”
Misha’s voice became delighted.
“Oh, I’m absolutely asking.”
“Misha.”
“Fine.
Stay there.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I’m walking away.”
“Why?”
Piya looked toward the mansion.
“Because if Abhay sees me standing outside his property he’ll probably disinfect the road.”
Misha burst out laughing.
“Stop laughing!”
“I’m coming.”
At the boys’ hostel, Sameer laughed.
“She hasn’t forgiven the car.”
Rohan replied:
“She shouldn’t.”
Chen Wei said:
“Abhay needs social training.”
Haruto:
“He has probably forgotten how humans behave.”
Min-jun nodded seriously.
“That is actually plausible.”
Rohan stared.
“Why are we discussing fictional vampire psychology like a military briefing?”
Nobody answered.
Because they were all enjoying it.
The Dobriyals
Misha arrived approximately twenty minutes later.
She leaned out the window.
“Get in.”
Piya opened the door.
Misha stared.
“Well?”
“No.”
“Come on.”
“No.”
“You went to Abhay’s house!”
“To return his wallet.”
“You had his wallet?”
“He dropped it.”
“Romantic.”
“Nothing about that man is romantic.”
Misha smiled.
“Sure.”
Piya glared.
Misha drove.
Then said:
“I’m taking you home.”
“Hostel?”
“My home.”
Piya blinked.
“Why?”
“Because my mother made too much food.”
“That’s your reason?”
“Also because I’m curious about the complete Abhay disaster.”
Piya sighed.
“I’m surrounded by horrible people.”
“You’re learning.”
Misha’s home was completely different from Raichand Mansion.
Warm lights.
Family photographs.
Shoes by the door.
Voices from inside.
Someone arguing about dinner.
Someone laughing.
Piya paused.
Something inside her softened.
Misha entered first.
“I’m home!”
A young woman appeared.
Older than Misha.
Elegant.
Warm.
Carrying several files.
“Panchi!”
Misha grabbed Piya’s wrist.
“This is my sister.”
Panchi Dobriyal.
Panchi smiled.
“You must be Piya.”
Piya blinked.
“You know me?”
“Misha has sent approximately fourteen messages.”
Misha objected:
“Twelve.”
“Fourteen.”
“Two were stickers.”
“They count.”
Piya laughed.
Immediately— the tension from the Raichand Mansion weakened.
Then a woman entered from the kitchen.
Madhu Dobriyal.
Warm face.
Motherly presence.
She looked at Piya.
“So you’re the scholarship girl who rescued Misha from having no normal friends.”
Misha looked offended.
“Mother!”
Madhu embraced Piya before Piya understood what was happening.
“Come.
Eat.”
Piya blinked.
“Ma’am—”
“No ma’am.”
She pointed.
“Aunty.”
Piya smiled shyly.
“Aunty.”
“Good.”
Then a man’s voice came from the adjoining room.
“Misha, did you—”
He entered.
Arnab Dobriyal.
And Piya froze.
The world became quiet.
The smile disappeared from her face.
Her eyes widened.
For one frightening second— she couldn’t move.
Arnab looked toward her.
Friendly.
Unaware.
“This must be Piya.”
Piya’s fingers tightened.
Something about him.
His face.
His voice.
A buried memory.
Pain.
Confusion.
Something she couldn’t immediately confront.
Ju Jingyi played the moment beautifully.
Shock entered Piya’s face— then discipline.
She forced it away.
A breath.
Smile.
“Hello, Uncle.”
Arnab smiled.
“Welcome.”
Piya nodded.
Misha didn’t notice.
Panchi almost did.
Almost.
At Savitri’s home, the older woman leaned forward.
“She knows him.”
Rhea looked over.
“What?”
“Piya.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Savitri pointed toward Jingyi.
“Watch her face.”
The scene moved on.
Rhea looked impressed.
“You’re good at this.”
Savitri replied:
“I taught literature for forty years.”
Apparently television mysteries counted.
Kenji Watanabe nodded approvingly.
Miyu asked:
“Jingyi?”
“Good transition.”
Piya had gone from shock to forced composure without melodrama.
Kenji continued:
“She didn’t overplay it.”
Miyu smiled.
“So both leads passed your test?”
Kenji looked stern.
“One episode is not a test.”
“This is Episode Two.”
He ignored her.
Dinner
The Dobriyal dining table was chaotic.
Warm.
Normal.
Everything Piya’s life lacked.
Misha talked too much.
Panchi corrected her.
Madhu kept putting more food on Piya’s plate.
Arnab asked about college.
Piya slowly relaxed.
She laughed.
Actually laughed.
Not the nervous social smile she used with strangers.
Madhu watched her.
“Your parents must miss you.”
The table quieted.
Piya’s smile weakened.
Misha immediately realized the mistake.
“Mom—”
Piya shook her head.
“It’s okay.”
She looked down.
“I’m an orphan.”
Silence.
Madhu’s expression changed immediately.
Piya continued softly:
“I’ve mostly handled things myself.”
Misha looked guilty.
Panchi’s eyes softened.
Arnab became unusually still.
Madhu reached across the table.
Took Piya’s hand.
“Then you don’t have to handle everything yourself here.”
Piya looked up.
Madhu smiled.
“If you ever need anything…”
“…you come here.”
Piya’s eyes became wet.
“Aunty…”
“No arguments.”
Misha immediately added:
“She really doesn’t allow arguments.”
Panchi nodded.
“True.”
Madhu ignored them.
“From today, this is also your family.”
Something inside Piya broke gently.
Not pain.
Relief.
She smiled through wet eyes.
“Thank you.”
Madhu squeezed her hand.
“Eat.”
Piya laughed.
That became the warmest scene of Episode Two.
In the Sangam girls’ hostel, So-min was emotional.
“I like her mother.”
Meera nodded.
“Piya needed that.”
Sara whispered:
“That’s going to hurt later.”
Everyone turned.
“Why would you say that?”
Sara looked defensive.
“It’s supernatural romance.
Happiness is suspicious.”
Aiko nodded.
“Statistically reasonable.”
Meera threw a cushion at both.
Han Mi-sook watched Madhu feed Piya.
She nodded approvingly.
“Good woman.”
Jisoo laughed.
“You approve?”
“Of course.”
Then Madhu added more food.
Mi-sook pointed.
“See?
Correct parenting.”
At Vardhan Mansion, Yuerou became unexpectedly quiet.
Ananya noticed.
“Mother?”
Yuerou smiled.
“Nothing.”
But she understood the scene perhaps more deeply than most.
A young girl far from home.
Someone else’s mother saying:
You may call this family yours.
Yuerou glanced at Krishna’s empty chair in the real mansion.
Her eyes softened.
Her son was also away.
Choosing his road.
Finding people outside the family who might one day become another kind of home.
Aditya noticed his wife’s expression.
He said nothing.
His hand moved quietly over hers.
Yuerou looked toward him.
Their fingers intertwined.
The Hunger
The warmth did not last.
The episode cut abruptly from Piya laughing at the Dobriyal table— to darkness.
A forest.
Silence.
Then movement.
Abhay.
Alone.
Krishna’s performance changed again.
He wasn’t the arrogant college boy now.
No audience.
No humans to imitate.
No reason to breathe normally.
His movements became slower.
More predatory.
A distant heartbeat sounded.
Abhay stopped.
His head turned.
A deer moved between trees.
His eyes darkened.
Something inside him changed.
Hunger.
Not metaphorical.
Not romantic.
Physical.
Violent.
Abhay’s jaw tightened.
The sound of the heartbeat became louder.
His hand curled.
For one moment— the God-Level predatory quality overwhelmed the screen.
This was not a handsome college student.
This was a creature.
A reaper.
Something built to hunt.
He moved.
Too fast.
The deer panicked.
Abhay appeared ahead of it.
His eyes had changed.
Then— he stopped.
Piya’s face flashed through his mind.
Her angry expression.
“How can you be so rude?”
Then her face outside his mansion.
Vulnerable.
Human.
Alive.
The hunger fought with something else.
Control.
Abhay closed his eyes.
His hands trembled.
He stepped backward.
The deer escaped.
His breathing turned ragged.
For the first time, the audience saw how difficult restraint actually was.
Abhay slammed one hand against a tree.
The trunk cracked.
Silence.
He stared at his own hand.
Then whispered:
“Stay away from me, Piya.”
But the words sounded like a plea to himself.
Not her.
Across Sangam University’s girls’ hostel— nobody spoke.
Meera finally whispered:
“Oh.”
Xiaoyu looked at her.
“That was…”
“Scary.”
So-min nodded.
Aiko stared.
“He thought about her to control himself.”
Sara’s eyes widened.
“She’s already his anchor.”
Meera hugged the cushion.
“I’m finished.”
“What?”
“This show owns me now.”
The boys’ hostel had become equally serious.
Rohan stared.
“Okay.”
Sameer looked at him.
“Again?”
“No jokes.”
Haruto nodded.
“That was good.”
Chen Wei said:
“That’s the first time he looked genuinely inhuman.”
Min-jun added:
“And then Piya brought him back.”
Rohan looked toward the screen.
“So he wants her away because he’s afraid he’ll hurt her.”
Nobody mocked him.
Because that appeared increasingly true.
Kenji Watanabe’s expression had become focused.
Miyu asked:
“What did he do?”
“What?”
“Your face.”
Kenji pointed toward Krishna.
“Watch his shoulders.”
Replay.
Before hunger— controlled.
During hunger— upper body lowered slightly.
Predatory.
Then Piya appeared in his mind.
The shoulders rose.
Human posture returned.
Kenji smiled faintly.
“He’s separating the creature and the man physically.”
Miyu stared.
“He planned that?”
“If he didn’t, he’s frighteningly instinctive.”
“Which is better?”
Kenji considered.
“Neither is comfortable for other actors.”
The Raichand Confrontation
Abhay returned home later.
Haseena was waiting again.
“You went hunting.”
He walked past.
“I was hungry.”
“Did you feed?”
“No.”
That surprised her.
“You stopped?”
Abhay remained silent.
Haseena understood enough.
“Piya.”
His eyes hardened.
“Don’t.”
“She’s affecting you already.”
“She isn’t.”
“Then why didn’t you feed?”
Abhay turned.
For a second the mask cracked.
Then returned.
“Because I chose not to.”
Haseena looked troubled.
“You cannot afford weakness.”
Abhay’s voice became quiet.
“Neither can humans.”
Then he left.
Haseena stared after him.
Fear growing.
Not because Abhay hated Piya.
Because perhaps— he already cared too much.
Meanwhile — Piya Finds Warmth
Back at the Dobriyals—
Piya slept in Misha’s room.
Misha lay on the other bed.
Darkness.
“You’re awake?”
Piya answered:
“Yes.”
“Thinking about Abhay?”
“No.”
Immediate.
Misha smiled into the darkness.
“Definitely Abhay.”
“I’m thinking about your family.”
Misha became quieter.
“Good thoughts?”
Piya looked toward the ceiling.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“They’re nice.”
“They’re annoying.”
Piya smiled.
“You’re lucky.”
Misha’s expression softened.
“I know.”
Then:
“You can borrow them.”
Piya turned.
“What?”
“My family.”
“Misha…”
“I’m serious.”
She shrugged.
“We already feed half my friends anyway.”
Piya laughed softly.
Then her expression changed.
She remembered Arnab.
That strange shock.
The feeling she couldn’t explain.
Why had seeing him affected her?
She closed her eyes.
No answers.
Only more questions.
Episode Two Ends
The episode’s final minutes alternated between two places.
Piya inside Misha’s warm home.
Abhay inside his cold mansion.
Piya lying beneath a blanket, smiling because someone had called her family.
Abhay standing alone before the old portrait.
Piya surrounded by people.
Abhay surrounded by memories.
He stared at the painted woman.
Then at Piya’s face in his mind.
His voice came softly:
“Why do you have her face?”
The camera moved closer.
Abhay’s expression became colder.
Almost angry.
But beneath it— fear.
Then:
“Who are you, Piya Jaiswal?”
Black.
END OF EPISODE TWO
The Eastern Federation Reacts
For several seconds—
Room 407 remained silent.
Then Meera screamed into her cushion.
Xiaoyu grabbed Sara.
“Episode Three!”
Sara stared at her screen.
“It’s not released yet!”
“Make them release it!”
“How?”
“You run the fan page!”
“I do not run the network!”
So-min was already reading comments.
Aiko quietly said:
“Episode Two was better.”
Everyone stopped.
Then slowly nodded.
It had been.
Episode One introduced the mystery.
Episode Two gave it emotion.
At the boys’ hostel, Rohan grabbed his phone.
Sameer noticed.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking Episode Three release time.”
Silence.
Then the entire room exploded.
Rohan looked offended.
“Shut up.”
Chen Wei raised a finger.
“Shh.”
Everyone shouted together:
“TOO LOUD!”
Savitri Mehra put down her tea.
Rhea waited.
Finally:
“The girl is good.”
“Ju Jingyi?”
“Yes.”
“And Yichen?”
Savitri looked toward her.
“The boy is dangerous.”
Rhea blinked.
“As Abhay?”
“As an actor.”
She pointed toward the screen.
“Very handsome actors often rely on appearance because audiences forgive them.”
Rhea nodded.
“This one doesn’t.”
A pause.
“He works.”
Rhea smiled.
“So you’ll watch Episode Three?”
Savitri gave her a look.
No excuses anymore.
Progress.
Professor Liang had filled three pages.
His wife stared.
“Three?”
“Questions.”
“How many?”
“Fourteen.”
“About vampires?”
“About narrative structure.”
She laughed.
“What is the most important?”
Liang looked toward the television.
“Why did Haseena react more strongly to Piya than Abhay did?”
Meilin stopped laughing.
That was actually a good question.
Kenji Watanabe stood after the credits.
Miyu asked:
“Verdict?”
Kenji paused.
“Li Yichen can sustain it.”
Her eyes brightened.
“High praise.”
“He still has weaknesses.”
“What?”
Kenji stared at her.
“You think I’m going to tell you after only two episodes?”
She laughed.
He left.
Then returned five seconds later.
“When is Episode Three?”
Miyu’s smile became enormous.
Kenji immediately regretted asking.
Piya’s Fans Grow
Episode Two also changed the conversation around Ju Jingyi.
The first episode had made viewers call Piya beautiful.
The second made them care about her.
Clips of her dinner with the Dobriyal family circulated widely.
A popular post read:
Piya doesn’t need someone to save her.
She needs somewhere she can feel she belongs.
Another:
Ju Jingyi’s expression when Madhu says “this is also your family” hurt me more than the vampire scenes.
Male college audiences who had originally expected Piya to be only the romantic heroine began praising her natural reactions.
Female viewers liked that she confronted Abhay instead of silently accepting his behavior.
One trending clip showed:
“How can you be so rude?”
followed by Piya walking away.
Caption:
POV: He’s handsome but your self-respect still works.
Millions shared it.
Ju Jingyi’s followers climbed sharply overnight.
So did Kim Se-jeong’s.
Misha’s:
“You can borrow my family.”
became another favorite line.
The series was no longer being carried by one actor.
That pleased Director Qiao.
A good drama created characters people loved.
Not one star surrounded by furniture.
Abhay Mania
Unfortunately for Sangam—
Abhay was becoming something else entirely.
The scene outside Raichand Mansion spread everywhere.
Viewers replayed Krishna’s expression after Piya turned away.
One editor removed the dialogue and added only background music.
Without words— the concern became even clearer.
Comments poured in:
He is begging her to stay away without saying it.
His mouth says leave.
His eyes say please be safe.
WHY DOES THIS MAN ACT WITH HIS EYELASHES?
Li Yichen needs to stop.
I have classes.
Then came the forest scene.
That clip crossed fandom boundaries.
Young men who hadn’t cared about supernatural romance reposted it because Krishna’s transformation into a predator looked genuinely threatening.
Action directors noticed his body control.
Industry professionals noticed something else.
The newcomer everyone had dismissed— could perform romance.
Comedy.
Cold arrogance.
Supernatural menace.
Emotional restraint.
All inside two episodes.
The casting inquiries to Shen Lihua multiplied.
Northstar Talent Brokerage
Lihua sat in Krishna’s temporary dressing room surrounded by digital screens.
Krishna entered.
Stopped.
“What happened?”
She looked at him.
“Your career happened.”
He glanced at the screens.
Offers.
Advertisements.
Fashion houses.
Streaming interviews.
Supporting roles.
Leading roles.
Guest appearances.
Variety programs.
Magazine covers.
Krishna stared.
“That seems excessive.”
“You’ve said that three times today.”
“It remains true.”
Lihua crossed her arms.
“Twenty-eight television offers.”
“Reject.”
She blinked.
“All?”
“I’m already filming one.”
“Eight film inquiries.”
“Scripts?”
“Some.”
“Send them.”
“Eleven endorsements.”
“What?”
“Skin care.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Krishna stared at her.
“Do I look qualified to explain moisturizer?”
Lihua looked at his face.
Then at him.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Krishna sighed.
“Next.”
“Luxury watches.”
“Maybe.”
“Cars.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want people buying cars because I drove one while pretending to be a vampire.”
Lihua stared.
“That’s literally how advertising works.”
“Disturbing.”
She rubbed her forehead.
Yuerou had given her a monster.
A polite one.
But still a monster.
Lihua became serious.
“Your popularity is rising very quickly.”
Krishna nodded.
“Too quickly.”
That surprised her.
“You’re worried?”
“Momentum isn’t foundation.”
Lihua’s eyes sharpened.
Good.
He understood.
Krishna continued:
“One viral role can make people curious.”
“Several good roles make them trust you.”
“Exactly.”
“So?”
Krishna looked toward the script waiting nearby.
“I finish Abhay properly.”
A smile slowly appeared on Lihua’s face.
“Good answer.”
Krishna picked up the script.
“Then why did you look surprised?”
“Because most newcomers would be asking which luxury endorsement pays the most.”
“What does pay the most?”
Lihua stared.
Krishna smiled.
“Kidding.”
“You’re exhausting.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Ju Jingyi’s Reaction
Across the studio, Ju Jingyi was reading Episode Three when Krishna arrived.
She glanced up.
Then looked down again.
Krishna stopped.
“Something wrong?”
“No.”
“That sounded like something.”
She placed down the script.
“The internet thinks Piya should slap Abhay.”
Krishna considered.
“Reasonable.”
Jingyi stared.
“You’re not defending him?”
“He wiped the car.”
“You did that!”
“Abhay did.”
She laughed.
Then became more serious.
“Did you plan the expression after Piya walks away?”
“What expression?”
“Don’t.”
Krishna smiled.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He sat opposite her.
“Because Abhay wanted her away.”
“I know.”
“But he didn’t want her hurt.”
Jingyi nodded.
“So his words push her away.”
“His eyes follow her.”
Her expression brightened.
“Exactly.”
Krishna smiled.
Jingyi studied him.
The strange thing was— he spoke about Abhay like another person.
Not himself.
No ego.
No:
Did you see how well I performed?
Only— what would Abhay feel?
What should Piya understand?
What should the audience understand before Piya does?
Jingyi suddenly asked:
“Do you ever think about how viewers see you?”
Krishna paused.
“As Yichen?”
“Yes.”
“Not while acting.”
“Why?”
“Because Abhay doesn’t know he’s being watched.”
That silenced her.
Then she smiled.
“You really are strange.”
“Common diagnosis.”
She looked at her script.
Then said quietly:
“I want Piya to be as real as your Abhay.”
Krishna’s teasing disappeared.
“She already is.”
Jingyi looked up.
“You think so?”
“Your dinner scene carried the episode.”
She blinked.
He continued:
“The supernatural mystery gives people questions.”
“Piya gives them someone whose answers matter.”
Jingyi became quiet.
Then smiled.
“Thank you.”
Krishna nodded.
Then looked at the script.
“Although—”
She narrowed her eyes.
“What?”
“Your emotional transition before seeing Arnab was slightly early.”
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
“Li Yichen.”
“Hm?”
“Go away.”
Krishna laughed.
Somewhere nearby Shen Lihua watched them.
Then quietly looked toward the ceiling.
Young actors.
This was going to become complicated.
Not romantically necessarily.
Professionally.
Their competitiveness was already feeding each other.
And that—
Lihua actually liked.
Vardhan Mansion After Episode Two
The family remained in the main hall after the credits.
Ananya looked emotionally devastated.
“Gege is lonely.”
Kavya stared.
“Abhay.”
“Same face.”
“Not same person.”
“Still.”
Yuerou smiled.
She had particularly loved the Dobriyal family scene.
Then she looked toward Aditya.
“Well?”
Aditya knew the interrogation was coming.
“It’s better than Episode One.”
Everyone froze.
Kavya slowly turned.
“What?”
Aditya frowned.
“What?”
“You voluntarily praised it.”
“I gave an assessment.”
Arjun appeared on the remote screen.
“Recorded.”
Aditya looked toward him.
“Delete it.”
“No.”
Rudraveer laughed.
Li Jianhong leaned back.
“Your father is becoming a fan.”
Aditya looked offended.
“I am evaluating my son’s professional decision.”
Kavya whispered:
“Fan.”
“I heard that.”
“Good.”
Yuerou remained quieter.
Eventually she asked:
“Do you still think acting is beneath his status?”
The room changed.
Nobody joked.
Aditya looked toward the frozen image of Abhay on the television.
His son had endured two years.
No family money.
No influence.
No name.
Tiny parts.
Cut footage.
Rejections.
And when opportunity finally came— he had turned it into this.
Aditya didn’t answer immediately.
Then:
“I think…”
Everyone waited.
“…I underestimated what he meant when he said he wanted to act.”
Yuerou’s eyes softened.
That was enough.
For now.
The Numbers
By midnight—
Episode Two had surpassed Episode One’s first-night viewership.
Completion rate increased.
Replay rate climbed.
Search interest in:
Li Yichen
Ju Jingyi
Kim Se-jeong
Abhay Raichand
Piya Jaiswal rose across all four major cultural districts.
Bharat discussion platforms debated the supernatural mythology.
Huaxia viewers praised the visual chemistry.
Haneul viewers loved Misha and Piya’s friendship.
Sakura audiences began producing artwork of Abhay’s forest transformation.
Streaming platforms outside Sangam requested accelerated regional distribution packages.
Northstar received international inquiries.
Director Qiao sat alone inside the production office looking at the numbers.
The producer entered.
“Are you smiling?”
“No.”
“You are.”
Qiao turned the display.
The producer stopped.
Episode Two retention:
higher than Episode One.
Audience growth:
accelerating.
Social engagement:
multiplying.
The producer slowly sat.
“We might actually have something.”
Qiao looked toward the raw footage of Krishna and Jingyi filming Episode Three.
“No.”
The producer frowned.
“No?”
Qiao smiled.
“We already do.”
The Fans Who Stayed
Late that night—
Meera Kapoor wrote:
Episode Two proved something.
Abhay’s rudeness is fear.
Piya’s kindness isn’t weakness.
I’m staying.
Sara reposted it.
Xiaoyu added:
Abhiya has begun.
So-min:
Misha deserves more screen time.
Aiko posted a detailed character analysis that unexpectedly received twenty thousand shares.
Rohan Malhotra quietly followed the official account.
His roommates immediately found out.
He denied everything.
Savitri Mehra searched Li Yichen’s previous acting credits.
Professor Liang began constructing a timeline of Raichand history.
Han Mi-sook informed her restaurant staff that Episode Three would be watched after closing.
Kenji Watanabe searched the name:
Li Yichen acting training and found almost nothing.
That confused him.
Because the boy’s technique shouldn’t have come from nowhere.
None of them knew the answer.
Not the systems.
Not Suryavansh.
Not Black Monsoon.
Not the years of obsessive practice.
Not the young man behind Abhay.
All they knew was what appeared on the screen.
And perhaps— that was exactly what Krishna wanted.
He didn’t want them impressed by Major General Vardhan.
He didn’t want them loyal to the Vardhan–Li House.
He didn’t want them fascinated by Skyfang.
He wanted them to look at Abhay Raichand— and believe.
Final Scene — Between Fire and Home
Krishna returned to his apartment after shooting.
He dropped the script onto the table.
His phone immediately rang.
Mother.
He answered.
Yuerou’s face appeared.
“Yichen.”
“Mother.”
“You ate?”
Krishna stared.
“That is your reaction to Episode Two?”
“Answer.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
He sighed.
“Rice.
Chicken.
Vegetables.”
Yuerou narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“Photo.”
“Mother.”
“Photo.”
Krishna sent one.
Yuerou inspected it.
Then smiled.
“Good.”
Krishna shook his head.
“Millions watched the episode and my mother wants evidence of vegetables.”
“Millions don’t have to keep you alive.”
Fair.
Then Yuerou’s expression softened.
“You were wonderful.”
Krishna became quiet.
“Thank you.”
“Piya too.”
“Jingyi worked hard.”
“Misha is lovely.”
“Se-jeong will be pleased.”
Another pause.
Then Yuerou asked:
“Are you happy?”
Krishna looked around the small apartment.
Two years ago— he had entered Sangam alone.
For months— auditions.
Rejections.
Cuts.
Empty credits.
Now his phone wouldn’t stop vibrating.
His face was everywhere online.
People were waiting for Episode Three.
But that wasn’t what made him smile.
Today the director had asked for a different interpretation— and Krishna had found one.
Jingyi had improved a scene because of something they discussed.
A crew member had told him his daughter loved Abhay.
A young extra had asked Krishna for acting advice.
Those things mattered more.
“Yes.”
He answered simply.
“I’m happy.”
Yuerou’s eyes filled slightly.
She hid it well.
Not well enough.
Krishna smiled.
“Mother.”
“What?”
“You’re crying.”
“I am not.”
“Your eyes—”
“Goodnight, Yichen.”
“Mother—”
The call ended.
Krishna laughed.
At Vardhan Mansion—
Yuerou lowered the phone.
Aditya stood nearby.
“He noticed?”
“Immediately.”
“He’s your son.”
“Our son.”
Aditya nodded.
Then looked toward the television screen showing a promotional still of Abhay and Piya.
His expression became thoughtful.
Yuerou noticed.
“What?”
Aditya shook his head.
“Nothing.”
But inside— he remembered a twenty-two-year-old standing at the gates of Vardhan Mansion.
Prove me wrong.
And Krishna’s answer:
No.
I’ll prove myself right.
Aditya looked at Abhay Raichand.
At the exploding viewership numbers.
At the industry discussing Li Yichen.
Then he quietly thought:
You’re beginning to.
Back in his apartment—
Krishna opened the Episode Three script.
The system appeared.
[Principal Character Synchronization: 74%.]
[Public Character Recognition increasing rapidly.]
[Performance influence expanding.]
Krishna ignored the statistics.
He turned a page.
Read.
Stopped.
Then smiled.
Episode Three would bring Piya closer.
Which meant Abhay would try even harder to push her away.
Krishna leaned back.
“You’re making terrible decisions, Abhay.”
The system responded:
[Observation: Host possesses extensive experience making unconventional decisions.]
Krishna stared.
“Was that an insult?”
No response.
He laughed.
Outside his apartment—
Confluence City remained awake.
Screens displayed Piya.
Abhay.
Misha.
Millions discussed theories.
The Federal Cultural State of Sangam had begun falling in love with a story.
But even Sangam was only the beginning.
Because entertainment traveled easily across the Eastern Federation.
Bharat.
Huaxia.
Haneul.
Sakura.
Hundreds of millions of viewers.
Different cultures.
Different tastes.
Different reasons for watching.
Yet the same question was gradually appearing everywhere:
What happens next?
That was the most precious thing any storyteller could earn.
Not fame.
Not beauty.
Not trends.
Attention.
Expectation.
The desire to return.
For two years—
Li Yichen had begged the industry for opportunities to remain on screen.
After Episode Two— the audience itself was beginning to demand that he return.
And this time— no editor could cut that away.