Neel Udawat never meant to intrude on another palace gossip. However, some things are inevitable, and the latest incident of inattention that almost resulted in prince Harsh's accident became the hot topic whispered through every corridor. Fingers were pointing at Raghav, who had every right to demand an explanation.

Leaning against a marble column, arms crossed, Neel stood at a distance while Raghav's voice sliced through the East Wing lobby.

"Does any of you morons realize what could have happened?" the chief of security thundered, glaring at the guards assigned to the royal convoy. "The prince wandered across the road. Unaccompanied. The security lapses are unacceptable. What are you all doing? First a smoke break days ago that left one of our own dead, an unknown dead attacker, the King endangered, and now, this." He fumed.

Neel's eyes flicked over them. It wasn't a surprise they were lazy. Majority of the security was. They had been slacking since eight years now. Lack of danger had rusted their instincts. 

But why now? His mind drifted away while Raghav continued to pace like a coiled snake, baring his fangs.

Some were removed.

Others were changed teams under the presence of Mr. Hiren, Raghav's father, and all the three security managers as they solved the grievances.

His eyes scanned the faces. Some old. Some new. Over time, he had stopped associating names with people. Names made humans, and he was far away from the world. His loneliness had no place for someone else.

He began to tap his finger against his elbow, replaying the night of the attack in the West Wing. The intruder. The dead controller. The frozen camera feeds. The perfectly executed silent entry. A body left for discovery. An unknown defender. Loopholes.

His eyes settled on the youngest two guards. First, who was barely suppressing a nervous grin that triggered a snicker from his companion. Young bloods. Their manager became humiliated, and demoted them to the stables instantly.

Not a threat.

His gazed skimmed over the others.

The middle one adjusted his sleeve. Nervous tic? Probably. Something to hide? Maybe. He became bored, and moved on.

Then came the last two. One, whose gaze remained stubbornly down.

Not normal. 

The last one was fidgeting with his belt. Again, not normal.

Neel pushed himself off the column. If his memory served him right, these two had been on duty at the night of intrusion too.

                 Later that day, he invaded Raghav's cabin after knocking half heartedly.

Raghav watched him, emotionless, as Neel crossed the room.

"I need to confirm something," he excused, walking over to the desk, and logging into the surveillance.

"I saw those two twitching like rats too, but unlike you, Raghav muttered, leaning back in his chair, "I still remember I have a life outside these walls. Leave confirmation to hackers. Tell me about your marriage."

Neel didn't respond.

Raghav leaned forward. "How shameless can you get? Your sister's getting older, and instead of settling down for her sake, you're here playing detective."

"Uh huh," Neel replied without a thought, eyes on the footage.

Raghav crossed his arms, staring at his profile. "Play detective all you want, but when I drag that bastard in by this Friday, you'll be begging me to marry your sister."

"Best of luck," Neel said flatly, not looking away from the footage of that night.

Bingo. He was right. Those two were involved in it. Their body cues before the intrusion shared abnormal similarities with today after the incident had already occurred. But was their manager part of it too? There were high—

Wait.

He leaned forward, replaying the footage again.

"Done, Sherlock Holmes?" Raghav cut in, shaking his head. "Do you even have a heart? Don't you want little nieces and nephews running around calling you 'Uncle, Uncle'? No, you don't. You, Shakuni, atleast have mercy on your sister. She's turning into a spinster. Doesn't that worry you?"

"And why does that concern you?" Neel asked dryly, finally turning to face his sister's persistent suitor. He had to deal with him first.

Raghav huffed, fixing his coat lapels as he stood. "Look, at this point, I don't care whether you're gay, lesbian or straight. I'm ready to accept you with a man too. If you have someone in your heart, tell me. Or, I can search a good partner for you. For the love of god, please marry. Why are you punishing me with celibacy for your own bachelor life? Your sister is more stubborn than you. Until I marry you off, you're single status is my horror story. I'm thirty three. You're twenty nine already, saale sahab. Have mercy on my old ass, and please settle down."

For a second, grief fleeted over his eyes, slowing down his world. He blinked away those beautiful memories away, steadying himself. No one could see that weakness.

"I can't be a lesbian," he said at last. "That's... that's biologically impossible."

Raghav glared, one eye twitching as he got done with him. "Of all my speech, you rectified such a gigantic mistake. I don't know what to— Neel, wait!"

Neel spun on his heel, leaving him behind.

"Should I cry, or laugh at this point?" Raghav sighed to himself.

***

Morning was a chilled affair. Harsh had not slept a wink last night, mind too chaotic to be attending college next day. Hello? He had almost lost his life a day ago had it not been for a hot stranger. Now that Harsh recalled those eyes, they were smoking hot. But no, instead of finding that attractive stranger so that Harsh could flirt his gratitude, Prithvi Rajvansh was sending him to a fancy, elite college. Had he forgotten he had never been to a regular school?

Guess, Rajvanshs didn't care.

However, it was also a golden opportunity to make his first ever girlfriend or boyfriend. Before this, people around his age were never available to him. He had to compromise with older people. Not that they're not hot, but many times, older partners couldn't understand what he needed. Some fun would be appreciated. 

Now finally, he could finally dream of his romantic and sexual liberation.Or, at the very least, a friends-with-benefits situation. Either was fine.

He sighed dramatically, reclining on the bed on one arm as he stared out at the slight drizzle.

This was Rajasthan, right? Then why was it raining so much?

He rolled his eyes, getting up, and hit the shower quite early. He walked out into the private hallway and dialled 3 on the intercom.

"This is Yug Bedi. Who am I speaking to?"

"Hello, Yug? It's me, Harsh." Harsh began, shifting on his other leg. "Can you ask Prince Prithvi to come over? I want to use my vanity room."

"Morning, Your Highness. Vanity is usually reserved for formal, or very special occasions."

"Well," he began, glancing around innocently. "This is a special occasion. My first day of college, no? You know what? Send His Highness over. We will discuss it."

"As you wish, your Highness."

Harsh put down the call and went to his room, before excitedly grinning at the luxurious vanity. He dressed up real quick, a white tank top, blue flight jacket, and high rise elegant grey trousers.

It didn't take long before there was a knock on his door.

"Yug told me you want to use vanity?" Prithvi confirmed, closing the door.

Harsh glanced away from the mirror, walking out of the walk-in-closet with a nod. "Yeah, I want some chic... you know, make over? Especially, the deodorants. Body fragrance is crucial." He nodded solemnly, as if educating his brother.

Prithvi nodded, not understanding it. "Right..." However, next moment, he frowned when his eyes landed on the snug fabric on his chest. Which to say in the least, was too mature for a teen.

"You're going to college, not on red carpet. What are you even wearing?"

Harsh arched a brow, before glancing down at his clothes. "What? Is there something wrong?" He looked up, puzzled.

Prithvi sighed, looking away. The kid looked attractive. Not a sweet, innocent appealing, but an adult, mature kind of attractive. It made him uncomfortable to even think that way. He wasn't ready to accept his brother in that light. He was too young for that!

"You're not going in that tank top," he said firmly, looking his way.

"Why not?" Harsh frowned, stepping forward. "What's wrong? Agney told me I should be—"

"Agni bhai," Prithvi corrected.

"I'm not finished yet," Harsh gritted. "You all expect me to act like a prince, right? Then what's the problem now? I look stylish."

"That's the problem."

"Excuse me?" Harsh raised his brows, not understanding.

Prithvi sighed again, shoulders slumped. "You are not going to wear that." His eyes hardened. "Go, and change into something age appropriate. Or say goodbye to vanity. I won't call the cosmetologist. Your decision." 

Harsh glared, frustrated. "But I like this!" He stomped, pointing at his clothes.

"You're a student. Not a playboy. Change." Prithvi glared sternly.

"You're such a mean prick. I hate you!"

Prithvi flinched as Harsh stomped back to the closet, closing the door. He knew the boy didn't mean it. But it reminded him so much of Yuvaan in that moment.

Was he really being over-controlling?

            Minutes later, Harsh was sitting before the vanity mirror, begrudgingly changed into a simple V neck Tshirt under the jacket.

The outer door swung open.

"Finally!" a bright, lilting British voice rang out. "I knew this day would come. One of you would finally delight this poor woman's heart."

Harsh blinked. A stunning blonde woman with sparkling blue eyes swept in, curls bouncing like she owned the palace.

"Hello to you too, Stella," Prithvi muttered as she threw her arms around him. 

"Oh love, you and your brothers should learn from this fine young man."

Harsh arched a brow, eyes flicking between the woman with her perfect curls and his brother who was gritting his teeth just as she was hugging him to death. She pulled away with a charming smile, and ushered in her assistants.

"She's my mother's childhood attendant's daughter," Prithvi whispered near his ear, leaning in. "Stella's mother was my Mother's favourite. My mom used to say she was natural at this. Stella has the same gift." Prithvi straightened when Stella turned to them with an excited grin.

"What are my handsome princes whispering about? She chimed, turning to Harsh with delight. "Your Highness, it's an honor to be graced by your presence." She bowed lady like, formally.

Harsh grinned awkwardly, brows arching. "Pleasure is all mine," he replied back with a blinding smile to match hers.

The woman swooned over him, hands cupping. "Gosh, he's lovely!" She exclaimed.

Before he could react, she veered the back of his head gently forward, inspecting his reflection.

Maybe vanity was a bad idea after all. He thought, as she inspected him.

She hummed, their gaze meeting through the mirror. "Your honey eyes are stunningly beautiful." She smiled.

"Thank you." He smiled, shy for the first time.

"And your nose, so masculine. Adds a rugged, attractive touch to your visage." She side eyed Prithvi with a teasing smile.

"Stella..." Prithvi sighed.

"My apologies!" She grinned unrepentantly. "I simply can't help myself. Finally, one of you cares about aesthetic. Pardon me, Your Highness, but beauty is my religion."

"That's a very... sacred way to put it," Harsh deadpanned.

She laughed, hands resting on his shoulders. "I like your humor. Now, what can I do for you, darling?"

"Don't listen to him. Just do a light touch up to make him feel we go above and beyond for him."

"No! Stop controlling me." Harsh glared at his brother through the mirror. His eyes moved to Stella. "I look like a racoon. My dark circles, please fix them first. Then deodorant, please. Something unique, you know? Because a person's scent says more about them than their words. And," he gestured with his hands subconsciously. "Can you please do something about my hair? A mild, professional tousled look that actually stays intact whole day." He requested, pitiful.

Her eyes lit up. "Oooh, your priorities are spot on! I'm excited to work with a man like you!"

Prithvi tried to interject. "Stella—"

"Prince Prithvi," she said sternly, waving him back like he were a pest. "You can object later."

"Boys, girls!" she clapped, turning to her team. "To work!"

Assistants rushed in with brushes and cotton. Harsh's grin widened, eyes flickering to his brother's exasperated face. He lifted a hand and waved cheekily at him through the mirror, smiling mischievously. 

Prithvi's face softened into reluctant fondness at his sweet, gleeful smile. He exhaled, lips tugging up faintly at the infectious happiness of the boy. He finally relented. 

Maybe, using vanity was a good idea.

             Prithvi and Harsh were summoned to Agney's study just as the team finished tailoring Harsh's touch-up to his needs. To say he wad delighted, was an understatement. Stella was the world's best woman, according to him. He smiled confidently, tousling his stylized strands. After getting up, he followed Prithvi with smug, flirty swagger, confident with his new look. Not that it changed anything much about him. It just made him appear healthier with an even complexion. In his glee, he completely forgot he was supposed to be mad at the older male for ignoring him yesterday.

"Oh, shit," he halted mid-step, saying it.

"Language," Prithvi replied, turning around. "What happened now, princess?"

"I'm not a princess. Shut up," he muttered, scowling and walked ahead.

Prithvi chuckled after him. "Jay does that too."

"Do what? Be whiny?" He asked half heartedly, looking at the walls. "By the way, how thick are these walls?" He gestured, absent minded.

"Why?" Prithvi asked with a quizzical look, eyes flicking to the walls.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Seems like a whole person can fit in them," he replied innocently.

Prithvi slowed, his face suddenly unreadable. Harsh took a few steps more before realizing the silence behind him. Frowning, he turned. "What now? Is someone actually in there?" he asked, nervous.

"Come here," Prithvi hushed, gesturing him closer.

He jogged past the patrolling guards, who dipped their heads respectfully to the princes. When they rounded the corner, Prithvi averted his gaze from the men and regarded Harsh with a stern look.

"Don't speak of childish fallacies."

"Why?" He whispered, his voice dropping on its own at his brother's secrecy. "What is wrong with what I said? I was just joking!" He whisper-yelled.

"I know," Prithvi nodded. "But, what you just innocently guessed... is true."

The hair at Harsh's nape stood on end. "What!" Goosebumps broke across his skin. "You've someone in there? What are we? Akbar burying Anarkali alive in the walls?"

Prithvi rolled his eyes. "Not that true." He leaned in. "But yeah, we have a secret tunnel."

His mind went blank, tilting his head. "A tunnel?" He confirmed.

"Yes."

"A tunnel?"

"Yes."

"Where, where?" He asked, spunning around and peeking at every stone like an excited pup.

Prithvi swatted the back of his head.

"Ow," Harsh grimaced. "That was uncalled for, dude..." he muttered.

Prithvi smirked provocatively, crossing his arms. "What did you expect then, Your Highness? A garland around your neck for your genius? Should we circle a puja thali around your face like you're our revered ancestor?"

"You don't have to be so aggressive. You're starting to sound like Agney Rajvansh in this moment. No wonder you're his brother," he muttered to himself as he rubbed his head, pouting. "I just wanted to know about the secret—"

"Shh!"

He flinched. "Fine," he whispered. "Secret tunnel."

"That's the problem," Prithvi said tightly. "It's secret."

Harsh blinked. "You don't know? Why not?"

Prithvi sighed, gaze drifting to the distance. "Only Bhaiya knew it," he began, voice thinning in the end, "Our mother forwarded it to him at her deathbed. But, bhaiya's death was completely instant and he couldn't tell any of us. No one in the family knows about it. At this point, it's only a family legend. However," He turned to Harsh sternly and pointedly. "It must not be discussed publicly. We have denied its existence in official statements. Moreover, if you ever find something ancient in this palace, instead of playing explorer, you inform bhai. Understood?" 

Harsh's shoulders sagged as he turned to walk ahead. Yeah, yeah. "This is lame, seriously. I thought you actually knew something. After all the intense building of this grand suspense like a pending orgasm, you gave me nothing." He shook his head like a father disappointed in his children.

"Language," the older prince warned. 

"I'm serious. Why did you give me that, long, fat, speech in the first place?" He stared ahead grumpily. "You ruined my mood. Do you know that?"

Another playful thwack landed on the back of his head. He turned around to glare, but Prithvi was already striding ahead, faster. "Early bird catches the worm. In this case, retaliation!" His brother called over, faintly smiling. 

"F, U," he muttered under his breath, feigning a scowl, but not meaning it at all.

                    Agney was on a call when they both entered, after Harsh chased Prithvi who was striding across the corridor with his long legs. Harsh liked to believe he had longer legs. He just wasn't up for a petty, childish race.

He didn't know why he was comparing their legs at this point. Honestly, he didn't know what he was doing. He was trailing after Prithvi because that was the only thing he liked doing at the moment. Prithvi's presence was the most tolerable of all his brothers. More than Shay's. Rest were brainless clowns playing dress up. Harsh didn't like them.

He only liked Prithvi. 

Oh boy.

When Harsh stepped up from behind Prithvi, Agney gestured them towards the chair. And like a lazy couch potato, Harsh flopped down. Prithvi didn't.

He looked up at the older male who had his arms crossed, a concentrated furrow on his face as he gazed at the back of King's head. When his eyes accidentally moved to Harsh's bored face, he flashed a small smile, lighting up Harsh's chest.

Harsh looked away for a brief second, before he leaned in with a mischievous smirk, tugging at his brother's linen shirt.

Prithvi looked down with an arched brow.

"Snooping is bad, bhai." He snickered to himself.

Prithvi frowned at him. Harsh's smile died, before he leaned back, looking away. Guess, his brother didn't like his joke. The older prince glanced at the eldest who was still engrossed in the conversation, before he leaned down.

"What did you just say? Sorry, I didn't hear you," he whispered. 

Harsh lit up. "I said, snooping is a bad habit."

Agney turned around, glaring at them silently. Harsh shut up, looking away while Prithvi straightened. 

"We will resume this later. Thank you," Agney replied curtly into the phone, and hung up.

"Prince Harsh, may I know the urgent discussion you were having with Prince Prithvi?"

Harsh winced, scratching at his temple. Geez, this guy was so stuck up.

Agney's eyes flicked to Prithvi. "Prince Prithvi?"

Prithvi shook his head, feeling squirmish under his brother's gaze for the first time. He glared at Harsh side ways, the one responsible for this glare. Harsh's lips twitched in a nervous grin, barely containing the chuckle that wanted to escape.

"Fine. Since your theatrics are over, you likely know why I summoned you."

Harsh smugly regarded Agney who occupied his executive chair with grace. "No? Please, enlighten me," he retorted, sarcastically. 

Agney leaned back, humming. "It's your first day of college."

"Oh, I didn't know that! How grateful of you to remind me."

Prithvi nudged Harsh's back warningly.

"Don't do that!" He snapped at Prithvi. 

"Prithvi, stop annoying him," Agney commanded.

Prithvi raised his arms defensively, retreating to a corner. "My bad, please continue. We will see who will mediate when a war breaks out here," he mocked with a tight lipped smile.

Agney ignored him, turning to Harsh. "You're going to socialise in public for the first time. At college, people can try to pry into your personal life. Be assertive, and try to keep it neutral. If they still persist or questions get raised, you will tell everyone that you were kept away for security reasons."

Harsh glared. "Security reasons?"

Agney nodded. "There's no need for anyone to know the details of your birth. Deflect, okay?"

They were ashamed of him, he realized. 

He laughed. "You mean lie." He ignored the tight feeling in his throat.

Agney's gaze flickered for a second, before he composed himself, tipping his head. "If that's what you wish to call it."

A dark bloomed in his chest. "Why are you trying to hide me? Afraid that your precious... little, reputation will be stained if they know I'm a bastard child?"

"That's not like it, Harsh. We are not ashamed of you," Prithvi intervened, sensing the miscommunication.

"Oh, then what? You care about me? We all know we're not a family," he snarled, glaring back at Agney.

The oldest brother stared back at him, composed, knowing how disruptive the boy could be. "You are our blood, Harsh. No one's opinion can change that. But you live in a world that doesn't forgive easily. So, for your sake, play the part. It will keep you safe from the drama."

"Wow, now you are going to protect me? Where were you when I needed you? Guess what?" Harsh flashed a fake, enraged smile. It dropped. "You were absent. A. B. S. E. N. T. Absent. Don't tell me how to protect myself. I've survived the world, and I'll continue to survive it, not because you are protecting me, because I am choosing to survive. You've lost your right to become a hero. Now, stop acting like one," he spat. 

"We're only trying to help you," Prithvi tried again.

Harsh fumed, flushed, jaw clenched tightly as he stared at his own lap, chest heaving with heartache and rage. Why weren't they in his life sooner? Why couldn't his father tell them he was there all along?

Why was fate so cruel?

Agney looked away from the boy to Prithvi. "Try to make him understand."

"I never asked to be helped," Harsh began, voice quivering. "I never asked to be cared for. I never asked to be loved! You're all doing this to satiate your hero complex, and I'll never be grateful for what you're doing. I'll leave you all the moment I get a chance. Wanna know why? Because I'm not a family. I will never be!" Harsh snapped, teary eyed as he pointed at Agney. "You don't get to be a hero in my life. Nobody does! I'm my own hero. I'm my own flaw. I am everything in my life, not, you! You are nothing!"

He heaved, tears breaking out. He looked down, choked on his own breath, heart pounding violently in his chest. He scratched at his wrist, panting. Wanting to erase the resentment, the bitterness.

Agney clenched his fist under the desk, controlling the urge to spew something damaging.

Prithvi stared at Harsh's outburst, shocked. "We are trying to guide you, Harsh. Who says we're doing this for gratitude?"

"Don't talk to me," he muttered, shaking with rage.

Agney massaged his temples. Great.

"We know we can't amend the past," Prithvi gently lifted Harsh's chin. "But we want to make your future. We owe this to you. You deserve so much, and more. We're not doing this for gratitude or to become a hero in your life. We are doing this because we care about you."

Harsh sniffed, eyes flicking to the distance. He looked away, pretending not to hear the words. They didn't know he deserved nothing. He furiously wiped his tear struck face. "God, my face. You ruined my whole touch up," he grieved, staring at the sleeve of his jacket, but finding nothing. 

"It's waterproof," Prithvi said, pulling away.

Harsh sniffed meekly, staring at it.

"We're not ashamed of you. We just... didn't want to make things more difficult for you. But, if you think you can manage it, you're free to confess the truth."

"You're lying," he mumbled weakly. "You don't mean it. So," he looked up, "If I tell everyone the truth that I'm an illegitimate child, it won't bother you?"

"It won't. Besides, some know already," Agney cut in. "I don't heed to the world. But, you're a teen. The pressure can be too much for you." 

Harsh snorted. "Being called a bastard is the least of my worries. If you're concerned about that." He rolled his eyes, not understanding why were they making this about him.

Were they gaslighting him? Or were they genuinely concerned for him? It was hard to distinguish between the two. Adults were confusing.

Agney toyed with his ring. "Stop calling yourself a bastard," he murmured with a strange tighteness in his chest. He wanted to burn the whole world for hurting the kid. Harsh didn't deserve to be punished for their father's sin.

Harsh knew the King was disgusted with him, so he looked away. He looked at Prithvi whose shoulders had slumped, face exhausted, as tension descended in the room.

He realized he didn't like Prithvi Rajvansh upset. So, he did what he knew best.

He cleared his throat. "Well... that was a free telecast of mini Mahabharata." 

Prithvi snorted, unable to control himself. "It's not the right time to joke, baby boy."

The heaviness from his chest alleviated at his mirth. He inhaled, shuddering and then, shrugged. "If you can't control it, might well as enjoy it?" It was his philosophy. If he couldn't stop reviving anything bad, he considered it fair to turn it into something entertaining.

"Now," Agney said, picking up a small band from the desk. "That we have sailed through the worst," He stood, "It's time you start accepting the consequences of your choices. This is your tracker. It monitors your location. You will wear it at all times."

Harsh stared. "What? That's insane! You got to be kidding me!" He shot to his feet, inching back.

Prithvi sighed loudly almost groaning. "Another storm incoming."

"It's necessary," Agney replied to them as Harsh scurried to take a cover behind Prithvi.

"Help me!" He whispered to the older male, grabbing his shoulders, and cautiously peeking over them at Agney. 

Prithvi shook his head, emotionally tired. "I'm can't. My soul is in another universe."

"Soul, or spirit, help me. Please! I beg you!" He looked away, glaring at Agney. "You're tagging me like some animal? No way I'm wearing that! Look, I have this," He pushed Prithvi forward who winced between them as he was used like a shield, "do this on him first."

"Thanks for the love, baby brother," Prithvi replied dryly, face to the side.

"You can't be serious right now! I need your cooperation. Can't you see he is trying to tag me like some dog—"

Agney crossed the distance in two, moving past Prithvi and grabbing Harsh who was too shocked to respond. He put a black band around his wrist. It secured automatically with a mechanical click and a small red light.

"What the fuck, you sadist, pedo, monster!" Harsh yanked at it as he moved back. It was futile.

"Take this off!" He glowered.

Prithvi raised his hand like a student asking for teacher's permission. "I apply for a vacation too."

"With one of us?"

"No, solo."

"Then rejected." Agney deadpanned.

Prithvi lowered his hand. Face blank.

"Fuck you, you back stabber!" Harsh yelled after Prithvi. How could he even ask for his own vacation in this serious moment!

"You betrayed me first, baby," Prithvi replied, glancing over his shoulder, exasperated. "And please, language."

"You're an asshole!"

Prithvi closed his eyes, shaking his head at the colorful words for himself. 

Harsh breathed hard, glowering at Agney. "This is all because of you! You're trying to sabotage my chances here!"

"What chances?" Prithvi frowned, turning around.

"Ugh... is that necessary to know?" Harsh masked his slip up. He wanted sex. But now, he would be tracked in real time. How would he slip inside someone's bed?

"Maharaj Agney Rajvansh, take this off me!" He resumed ferociously.

Agney looked up at the ceiling. "Actually, that's a good design."

Harsh yelled, and lunged forward. He grabbed the side of Agney's forearm, furious as he lightly punched him. 

Agney pushed him away.

Harsh screamed, fists balled up. "You're a creepy pedophile! Who tracks a kid?! Take this off me!" He raised the band to Agney's face.

Prithvi grimaced, the screams grating at his ears.

"A responsible adult when the same kid tries sex? Or, almost gets squashed to a tomato pulp under a moving car?" Agney retorted, smirking. 

Harsh flinched, still glaring. "How is all that connected to this!" He raised the band, unable to take it off!

Agney stared at the band, impassive. "Educate me too when you'll find the answer."

Harsh laughed under his breath. "Fuck... right. You're such a motherfucking fucktard!"

"Language," Prithvi requested for the umpteenth time.

Harsh screamed for the last time, and stormed out before he burnt the whole study down. He wanted to destroy everyone and everything! How dare they monitor him!

"Honestly, that went better than I expected," Agney noted thoughtfully at last, mentally relieved now that he was tracking the kid in real time.

Prithvi stared blankly. Body, soul, drained.

Sure. At the cost of his mental peace.