The evening streets hummed with life. Headlights sliced through the gathering dusk, and neon signs blurred past in streaks of vibrant red and blue.
Rahul maneuvered the car with practiced ease, twisting the wheel to slide us into a tight parking spot right outside Valentino Restaurant. The engine died with a low shudder.
The three of us stepped out into the cool night air. I took a deep breath, adjusting my jacket as we walked toward the glowing glass entrance together.
Inside, the restaurant was packed to the gills. A lively wall of customer chatter washed over us, punctuated by the clinking of silverware and bursts of distant laughter. The air was thick, heavily laced with the rich, savory aroma of freshly cooked spices, melting butter, and sizzling pans.
I threaded through the bustling crowd, dodging a hurried waiter, and walked straight to the reception counter.
"I need a table for three."
The receptionist looked up from her ledger. She greeted me with a warm, practiced smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.
"Certainly, sir. Table twenty-four is available."
A waiter materialized instantly, gesturing for us to follow. He guided us through the labyrinth of occupied booths and low-lit tables.
Finally, he led us to a cozy corner with four seats. Tucked away from the main walkway, it was just the right size for a tight-knit group.
I pulled out a chair, the wood scraping softly against the floor, and slid into it with a grin.
"Come on, sit down. Since it's my birthday, order whatever you want."
Rahul didn’t need to be told twice. He popped his knuckles and immediately snapped up the laminated menu, his eyes scanning the options.
Ishika, however, merely leaned back in her chair. Her hands rested in her lap, her gaze drifting toward the large television screen mounted high on the wall.
An international news channel was broadcasting a live report. The anchor’s voice cut through the ambient restaurant noise, sounding flat and deadly serious.
"The World Government has evacuated an area covering nearly one hundred kilometers. According to official reports, scientists have discovered a hidden radioactive material that is expected to become unstable within the next few months."
The anchor paused, adjusting his papers as the graphic behind him changed.
"To ensure the safety of nearby citizens, the entire area has been evacuated."
The screen flickered, cutting away from the studio to sweeping, gray aerial footage of a massive, sprawling construction site. Heavy machinery crawled across the dirt like ants. A gigantic facility was rising like a concrete fortress around the restricted zone, its high walls sealing off the core.
"The World Government states that this facility will contain the radiation while allowing researchers to safely study the material as a possible future energy source."
"Ishika."
My voice broke the spell. I tapped my fingers on the table, pulling her attention away from the glowing screen.
"Where are you lost? Rahul and I have already decided what we're eating. You should order too."
She blinked rapidly, shaking off the broadcast, and looked across the table at us. Her fingers drummed against the wooden surface.
"You ordered vegetables, right?"
I nodded, offering a quick smile.
"Then just bring me two rumali rotis," she said, waving a hand casually. "I'll share whatever you two ordered."
I turned to the waiting employee and repeated our final choices. As soon as the man nodded, tucked his notepad away, and stepped into the kitchen crowd, I leaned forward. I rested my chin on my hands, looking at Ishika curiously.
"What were you watching so seriously?"
"The news," she replied, her brow furrowing slightly as she glanced back toward the screen. "The World Government evacuating such a huge area... don't you think it's strange?"
I glanced up at the television, watching a silent replay of the concrete facility casting long shadows over the earth, before quietly looking away. My chest tightened slightly, but I kept my face blank.
"I guess."
The heavy mood didn't last long. The restaurant was too bright, the smells too inviting, and the conversation naturally shifted back to us.
"So," Ishika asked, propping her chin on her hand and looking at us with genuine interest, "what are you two planning to do after school?"
Rahul answered without a shred of hesitation, a proud spark igniting in his eyes.
"I'll inherit my family's martial arts hall."
*Lucky you.*
The thought echoed bitterly in my mind, but I forced it down. I smiled faintly, keeping my voice light and steady. "I'll probably prepare for a government job like my father."
At least, that’s what everyone believed. That was the safe, ordinary lie.
In reality, the rules of the hidden world were brutal and uncompromising. Many careers inside it depended entirely on raw, unyielding strength. Without power, your opportunities were suffocatingly limited, reducing your life to a series of closed doors.
I caught the thoughtful, slightly distant look that suddenly settled on Ishika's face. Her eyes dimmed, staring down at her empty water glass. It wasn't hard to guess she was worrying about her own grueling future at military school.
Wanting to steer her away from the stress, I decided to change the subject entirely.
"Rahul, I heard your marriage was arranged when you were still a child."
The cheerful, relaxed expression on his face instantly vanished. His jaw dropped, replaced by a dark, dramatic scowl.
"Why are you rubbing salt into my wounds?"
I couldn't help but laugh at his total breakdown. "What happened?"
"The family my grandfather promised me to..." He let out a long, deflated sigh that blew his bangs upward. "They're far above us now."
Ishika blinked in surprise, her attention fully captured as she looked between the two of us. "Then why did your grandfather agree to it in the first place?"
Rahul rested both elbows on the table, leaning in close until he was nearly whispering.
"Back then, our families had similar status. In fact, ours was slightly stronger." He let out a bitter, humorless smile, staring at his own reflection in the polished wood. "But life doesn't stay the same."
He stared down at the tablecloth, his thumb tracing a faint scratch in the grain. "Our family suffered heavy losses over the years, while theirs kept rising. Now the gap between us is enormous."
I didn't need him to elaborate on the details; I already knew exactly what he meant. Dad had spoken about Rahul’s family during a quiet evening at home once.
Three of his uncles had died in blood-soaked battles, defending humanity during catastrophic Dimension Invasions. His father had survived the front lines, but he had lost his right arm in the chaos—an injury that drastically reduced his combat ability and stripped him of his prime.
If Rahul's grandfather wasn't still alive, using his remaining influence to hold the name together, their family would probably lose its official recognition as a martial arts house entirely. They would be cast out.
*Maybe...*
A sudden, sharp thought sparked in my mind, making my pulse quicken. *Maybe I should ask Dad if he could help Rahul awaken his prana. Just like me.*
If Rahul succeeded, he'd become one of the youngest people ever to awaken prana through sheer, unyielding willpower alone. That feat would send shockwaves through the community. It would be more than enough to restore confidence in his family's bloodline and silence the doubters.
I opened my mouth, the question burning on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to ask how martial arts families typically handled prana awakening from the inside.
But the words caught in my throat. I looked to my side. Ishika was sitting right beside us, completely oblivious.
Some secrets weren't meant to be shared in the light. I forced my mouth closed and swallowed the urge.
Fortunately, the food arrived before the silence got awkward.
The waiter returned, his tray loaded with steaming dishes that he deftly arranged on the cloth. For starters, we dug into tangled plates of stir-fried noodles, crispy chili potatoes glistening with sauce, and deep-fried Manchurian balls.
Almost immediately after we cleared the starters, the main course followed.
Three different vegetable curries filled the air with rich, complex aromas of cumin and coriander. They were quickly accompanied by woven baskets filled with warm, blistered naan, paper-thin rumali roti, and regular rotis. The table was completely covered, a feast fit for a king.
"Looks delicious," Rahul said, his eyes lighting up as he reached for the serving spoon.
"It smells even better," Ishika replied, tearing off a piece of steaming bread.
We laughed, the heavy topics forgotten as we dove into the meal. The conversation turned bright, loud, and easy again.
We joked about our eccentric teachers, traded embarrassing stories from the crowded school hallways, and playfully argued over which curry deserved the top spot.
Cold drinks disappeared one glass after another, ice clinking against glass as we washed down the heavy spices. By the time we finally put down our forks and pushed our plates back, every one of us was completely full, breathing heavily.
I leaned back in my chair, letting out a deep, satisfied sigh and patting my stomach. I raised a hand, catching our waiter's eye across the room.
"The bill, please. And three cups of ice cream."
A few minutes later, the waiter returned with the small leather folder and three simple cups of vanilla ice cream. After settling the bill with my saved cash, we stood up and walked out of the restaurant, scooping up the sweet, cold dessert as we moved through the exit.
The cool evening breeze hit our faces the moment we stepped onto the sidewalk. It felt incredibly refreshing after the stifling, warm atmosphere of the crowded dining room.
As we approached the dark silhouette of Rahul's car, I took a steadying breath and finally spoke the words aloud.
"I'll be leaving school soon."
Both of them froze mid-step, their spoons halting halfway to their mouths.
"What?" Rahul looked at me, his eyes wide with genuine, unscripted surprise.
"I'll be starting an internship with my father."
I deliberately slowed down on the last few words, holding his gaze. I gave Rahul a sharp, meaningful look, narrowing my eyes just a fraction.
The confusion in his eyes cleared instantly, replaced by a sudden, tense understanding. He understood the unspoken truth. It was the hidden world—something dangerous, something we couldn't voice in front of Ishika.
"What about school?" Ishika asked, her brow furrowing as she looked between us, sensing the shift in energy. "And did Uncle and Aunty agree to this?"
"I've already learned everything I need from school," I said, shrugging it off with a casual tilt of my head. "As for permission..."
I forced a confident smile, puffing out my chest, though my voice wavered at the very end. "They'll agree. ...Probably."
Rahul stared at me for a second before bursting into a loud roar of laughter that echoed down the street. "I've never heard anyone sound so completely unconfident while saying they'll definitely get permission!"
Even Ishika couldn't help but chuckle, her shoulders dropping as the brief tension broke apart.
By the time we reached the car doors, we had finished our ice cream, tossing the empty paper cups into a nearby bin. Rahul unlocked the vehicle with a sharp beep, but he paused, turning back to look at me over the roof of the car. The lingering curiosity was still burning in his dark eyes.
"You're really leaving school?"
I didn't give him a straight answer. I simply smiled, pulling the handle and stepping into the passenger side, closing the door on the night.
Some things were better left unsaid.