Next day too passed in a blink of an eye, wearing him out, both physically and mentally. The only moment that truly stood apart was when a senior had briefly checked him out when they crossed paths at canteen. The sultry exchange lasted barely a minute, before Shay found him. Harsh quickly averted his eyes from the hot senior, pretending he was not flirtatiously returning the look.

             By the time he got home, he was overwhelmed. His mind was spinning, his muscles ached, and all he wanted was a moment to breathe. But rest seemed as distant as another galaxy. Before he could recover fully, more lessons were dumped on him. He was fatigued by the end of day, French, Spanish, and journalism all jumbled like khichdi in his head. He understood nothing about the day, except the fact that this lifestyle couldn't go on. He would fall dead at this rate. 

After dinner, he stormed into Agney's study without even knocking to voice his rights.

"I can't do this anymore. Your rules need updating. How will I put up with five extra lessons a day along with college? I demand my personal time. Cut my lessons or shift them to the weekends. I don't care. I need time to unwind."

Agney, unmoving, continued scrolling through his mail as if he hadn't heard a thing. "Cut the college classes, then."

Harsh froze. No. College was his only chance to connect with the outside world, to see beyond the suffocating walls of this rigid place. The only way to socialise. It was an experience his younger self would have died for. He had only known the world through movies or fiction. He couldn't miss out on actually living it!

"Why college? Why not the extra lessons? You can't change me into a robot who doesn't even rest a blink!" He tried to make his point stand.

"You will adapt," the King replied, eyes not moving from the mail he was personally replying. "Take days off from college if you need. But, extra lessons are non-negotiable. Don't waste your energy arguing with me."

His chest tightened at the cruel, uncaring way Agney could try to thwart his soul. "Wow. I'm allowed to skip interacting with the real world, but not allowed to skip an outdated fantasy?"

Agney's stern gaze snapped to him. He leaned back in the chair. "Our culture, our values, our tradition, they are not fantasy. We owe our future to the past we have evolved from. Our legacy is more essential than superficial connections. Unless you plan to invest in useful people like Yuvaan or Kshitij, you're free to skip college. Now, you may leave." His gaze moved back to the laptop.

His chest tightened, shoulders sagging with tiredness. Why was he not understanding it? "But I can't deal with so many classes a day. I need rest. Its about my well being," he mumbled.

"You should have thought that before sleeping with Isha."

He flinched, words landing like a slap. His throat closed up, tears prickling his eyes. "That's what this has always been about, right? Reputation. For you, it's always reputation. You're caging me!" He glared, teary eyed.

"I'm not caging you. I'm making you stronger, more responsible," Agney replied, cold.

Lies. He stormed out, squeezing with pangs. The pain almost made him sob. With a sick sensation sinking in his stomach, he realized he was cornered, and it didn't matter how hard he tried to fight it, his voice remained unheard. They saw him insignificant, weak and pathetic. 

All Agney Rajvansh cared about was perfection! He was just a tyrant!

The wind howled in Harsh's ears, biting at his skin. His legs trembled as he wavered on the edge of a cliff, the black, jagged rocks behind him disappearing into an endless black void that had no end. The abyss stared back at him, hitching his breath. He looked ahead instead, crying as the back of his knees went weak. He was going to fall. Please, someone pull him, or else he would crumble.

"You can't escape it," Jay chuckled before him,  dark and gleeful with an eerie look on his face. "You were always meant to fall. It's who you are. Just a joke."

​​He opened his mouth to disagree, to say 'No', but to his horror, no sound escaped him. He tried again, eyes round in horror. 'No, I—' he clutched his throat again, mute.

Jay laughed. "You don't deserve to be happy. It's for normal people, not whores like you." 

Panic clawed at his chest as his legs inched back towards the cliff, wavering and almost about to collapse on their own.

"I don't want to fall. Please help me!"

Jay's face twisted to Agney's. He was frowning at him with so much disappointment. "I'm wasting my precious resources on you. You'll remain a filth. What do you think you're doing there stalling it? You'll fall. You always do."

Harsh cried, wanting to scream when hands grabbed his ankles, pulling him back. He stumbled. "Bhai!" He begged Prithvi who stared back, unaffected.

​​​​"Why are you ignoring me? Please, help me! I'm sorry!" 

To his horror, there was no reply. His heart squeezed in raw panic.

​​​​​​"How dare you fight this? You're dumb, always creating a scene even when you know the outcome. What are you trying to prove? That you can escape the fate?" Collective voices began to mock him.

"You're looking so stupid right now. We can't stand it. Just go," someone said, a sort of mocking crowd forming around him, just as Harsh's leg began to bend, body about to collapse from the sheer helplessness of his panic, his cowardice.

"You're too weak for this."

His chest tightened, his throat closing. His vision blurred further, the world spinning as he broke into sobs. He was weak. Stupid.

"Come to me, Harsh," that man's voice called back.

He fell, terror crashing over him as he fell towards the monster at the end of cliff. He screamed, limbs failing in the free, body tearing apart.

"Wake up."

​​​​​​The hellish world glitched as something shook him awake. A voice? Or was it just his mind? His eyes snapped open, heart pounding. 

He gasped at a blurry, dark outline before him as tears continued to stream from his eyes. His body remained paralyzed, scream lodged in his throat.

"It's over. Wake up," the unknown deep voice urged again.

He was shook by his shoulder. All of a sudden, he jolted to motion, limbs working again. He pushed himself up on his shaky hands and elbows, chest heaving as he sat up. 

Nightmare. It clicked him when the ringing noise cleared from his ears, pupils adjusting to the darkness of the room.

Air rushed to his lungs. Hiding his face, he shook his head reminding him he was back in real world. "J-just a nightmare. Just a nightmare," he repeated, rocking himself back and forth until he calmed down. 

He panted, shoulders trembling as his hands lowered in exhaustion. His fingers shot to squeezed his wrist. Thankfully, the tracker was on the other wrist. He squeezed his wrist painfully, digging his nails into the flesh to punish himself for being so pathetic even in his dreams. Why didn't he fight back? Weak. He was disgusted by himself, for being unable to protect himself. He hated everything about him.

It didn't take long before he eventually leaned his back at the headboard, mind full of self hatred as the last wave of the remaining terror receded. He stared at his dark room, feeling oddly disappointed. It was a nightmare. Couldn't he protect himself even in that? How weak could he get? How could he betray himself?

A fresh wave of tears broke out, the raw loneliness hitting him harder than the fall itself. He cried quietly. There was no one in this world who wasn't hurting him, no one who stood beside him. His fingers clawed at the tracker around his wrist, nails scraping, tugging, desperate to rip the cursed thing off his skin. He wanted it gone. He wanted all of it gone. The control, the lessons, the cage!

As the tears slowed, something inside him cracked. If Agney wouldn't free him, then he would earn it himself. But then, doubt crept up. What if he couldn't? What if Agney had lied to him?

He thought about it for long, weighing the cons. He was already cornered. If he let Agney continue, the man would crush his soul. His jaw trembled in rage. He had to win the Youth Seminar, to take his freedom in his own hands.

He blinked after a while, and sniffed, roughly wiping the tears off his face.

Standing up, sleep a far fetched dream, he made his way to his personal study. Pulling open the door, he slipped into the adjacent room, pressing on the light switch on his way.

There was only thing he didn't understand.

Who was the mysterious figure in his nightmare? The one who awoke him? He never had such an experience before. Generally, he would awake on his own. Why would his own nightmares try to awake him?

What if someone had been there.

Real?

He stiffened, a chill running down his spine. He spun on his heel alarmingly and stared back at the door to his bedroom. Tentatively, he checked his room's door.

Th latch was open.

He frowned, utterly confused. Had Prithvi slipped in then? But... the voice was unfamiliar. Besides, he clearly remembered putting on the latch.

He looked around in his room, puzzled. Until a strange thought settled in.

What if the secret tunnel opened in his room?

He averted his gaze, schooling his nervousness as put back the latch, ignoring the shudder that went through his body at the thought.

            By the time dawn arrived, he had devoured the last book too. Only Sonder and his academic course books remained. The latter didn't count since he refused to bore himself that early in the year.

The door rattled. Harsh jumped up, heart leaping to his throat, before sharp, loud knocks began to rasp outside. "Open up, brat!"

He frowned, dragging himself toward the door. Jay had arrived back? When? Had he been the one who opened Harsh's door last night? But how? And why? Or, was he conjuring stupid conspiracy theories due to sleep deprivation?

He swung open the door, heart hammering.

Jay stared back, grumpy faced, barely moving. His gaze moved down Harsh's form, confusing Harsh further. Had the bull any idea this gesture was called 'checking you out'? That, he was checking out his biological half brother?

"You look like a zombie," the bull muttered, gaze flicking back to his eyes with disgust. He scowled, barging inside. Harsh instinctively stepped to the side. "And why didn't you pick up my calls? I called you many times."

He rolled his eyes, and picked up his phone from the nightstand. Sure enough, thirty eight missed calls glared back at him while his phone was on silent mode. He froze.

"You called me..." He gaped. "Thirty eight times?" 

"Figures," Jay huffed, moving to the adjacent door. "And don't lock your door."

He stilled, heart flipping. "Why not?" He asked suspiciously.

"Because I don't like it." The bull aggressively opened the door to his study. Harsh followed after him, only to find the older male knocking his books off the desk, before marching back to his bedroom, storming past Harsh again.

Harsh pressed his back against the door frame to squeeze way for the weird guy.

What the hell was going on?

Jay hauled his backpack off the couch, turning it over, and scattering its content on the floor. He turned towards his bed, glaring. He pulled back the blanket and pillows, threw them on the floor, deliberately kicked and stomped on them, before spinning on his heel after done vandalising.

"Meet me in my room in an hour. We need to talk," he grunted, and exited the place, slamming the door shut behind him.

Harsh gaped at his retreating back, flabbergasted. What was that?

           An hour later, Harsh made his way to Jay's room after directed by Yug. Hesitating before the door, he calculated the odds of Jay unlatching the door last night. He had to confirm it without raising suspicions. Knuckles raised to knock, he changed his mind last second, and tried to open the door. The knob gave away, and he slipped inside the grey room, sound of shower in the background beating in rhythm with his racing heart. He gulped the heaviness lodged in his throat, and mustered all his courage.

"I'm here!" 

"Hold on!" Bull's muffled voice called over.

Harsh rolled his eyes, heartbeat hammering in his chest despite all the front of bravado he had put up. Why was Jay behaving so strangely? He tried to calm the tremble of his hands by curling them into fists, pocketing them in his sweatshirt, but the question gnawed at his mind, making him restless and scared.

What if it were Jay who had removed the latch last night?

It was an alarming coincidence. It had happened two times already. Along with strange rustling sounds, like someone actually moving through the walls. Maybe the royal family was lying, and they knew the tunnel. Maybe they were trying to gaslight him. He shivered, breath hitching. Swear pooled at his brows. Blinking rapidly, body trembling from the gripping terror, he glared at the door across him.

What was this guy's problem? Why couldn't he hurry up? He would die with dread at this rate!

"What are you doing there? Cleaning the whole city?" He jabbed the same way Jay had, days ago.

"Silence brat, before I drown you in the bathtub!" Jay yelled over.

Harsh rolled his eyes again, kicking at nothing to distract himself. Quick shuffling sounds began just as the shower turned off.

A moment later, the bathroom door swung open.

Jay emerged, water dripping down his hair and face, chest bare and glistening save for the towel he was vigorously rubbing over his head. He was only in sweatpants, glaring at Harsh like the whole universe's insolence were credited to him. "Couldn't you wait a second more? What was the rush?"

Harsh avoided looking down at his body, fixing his gaze between the bull's eyes instead. "Will you just cover yourself already?"

Jay scoffed. "Only you can sexualize everything," he muttered, wiping himself dry.

"I'm not sexualizing you. Eww," Harsh grimaced. "I'm just uncomfortable seeing you half naked."

"We're brothers," Jay said, like it was the most obvious solution to this problem.

Harsh glared. He shifted at his place, crossing his arms as he looked away. If only he knew this was not how fear worked. Fear doesn't know relationships. Betrayal doesn't either. It hit him suddenly how easily Jay could overpower him if he wanted. The realization punched the air from his lungs. Jay took a single step forward, tossing his towel in hamper, and Harsh's body moved on instinct, inching back until his spine brushed the wall. His palms grew clammy as he furled and unfurled them, knees unsteady. Every muscle in him tightened, bracing for the attack as he waited near the door, just in case.

When Jay looked away from glaring at the hamper, he studied him closely, brow furrowing. "What are you doing?" He frowned at his pale face, picking up a shirt he had laid on bed. Was the brat... nervous?

Harsh looked away from his scrutiny, having a sudden urge to scratch at his wrist. Nails digging into his wrist, he self-soothed.

"You're such a freak," Jay exhaled at last, buttoning up his shirt. Exhaustion flickered across his face.

"What have you called me for, creep?" He muttered, done with anticipating fear every second. He would rather get over with pain quickly if it was inevitable.

"I have been considering it for three days now," Jay began, sitting down to tie his shoelaces. "But, before that— you're stupid." He smirked smugly.

"Thanks, I didn't know it," Harsh replied dryly, not understanding the point of this whole conversation.

Jay clasped his hands behind his back, standing up. "Agni bhai wants me to educate you on our ways of life." His jaw twitched. "Though, I'm aware you're a stupid, attention seeking brat, I have decided to help you out. Because apparently, you are my responsibility." He arched his brows, expectantly gazing back at him.

"And?" Harsh asked, doubting the meaning.

"I want to call a truce."

He blinked, head tilting as his mind went blank. "Huh?"

"A truce. As in—"

"I know what a truce is." He pushed himself off the wall. "Why now? Having a pity party? Shove it up your ass instead."

He didn't trust Jay's offer, not for a second. The bull didn't do kindness. He was an arrogant, ego maniac, narcissist. His stomach twisted with suspicion.

Jay scowled. "Why can't you converse decently for once?"

Harsh shrugged, smirking. "Maybe I mirror people. That's why?"

Jay fumed, nostrils flaring. He clenched his fists. "Don't you want people to treat you like you matter? Or do you want to be a joker forever?" He smirked, maliciously.

His expression crumbled. The words stung more than he let on. 

However, the older prince wasn't over yet. "You think you're... cool because you're unfazed. Stop trying so hard. It makes you look pathetic. Don't waste your life entertaining others like some cheap scum," he spat with hatred.

Tears welled in his eyes. Running his tongue inside his cheek, he looked away, his chest so heavy it hurt to breathe. He felt a trapping sense of rejection, as if the older prince's cruel words had crushed any possibility of being understood or accepted. Hot, suffocating shame burnt beneath his flushed skin. He realized how foolish it was to crave something from them, how deeply childish to hope for it from someone who thrived on control and power. He felt bitter at himself, disgusted. To even hope such a thing.

He hated Jay for reminding himself of his ugliness.

"If anyone's looking like a joker," he spat, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his thumb, lips tugged down, "that's you." 

Jay huffed. "You and I know the truth." He squinted. "And why are you crying again? Is that all you know how to do?" 

Harsh stared at the floor, tired. His lips were trembling despite his effort to clamp them still.

Something about the brat's quietness, the lack of response irritated him. "Why are you ignoring  me? Crying won't change the truth, brat. You're stuck in this situation, so am I. Do you think I like this?" He stepped closer, gesturing between them. "No, I don't. But I have no choice. If you won't annoy me, I won't bother you either. I promise you. Call it a truce now. I can't continue to downgrade my mind in your moronic presence." He groaned, realizing the slip up. "Fine. I take back the last line. Now, moron, what do you think?"

Harsh glared at him. "Don't act like you're doing me a favor," he spat.

"I am doing a favor, brat."

"Then shove it up your—"

"Stop it," Jay muttered, scowling. "So, you won't call it a truce? You want to play Tom and Jerry then?"

Harsh scowled. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"Yeah, nice, I know," Jay grinned. It dropped. "But seriously, call it a truce now. If I'll fight you, I'm going down with you. I'm not like you, who will shoot his own foot. Do you have a better idea than this? Do you believe we will make our lives better by being at each other's throats?"

Harsh rolled his eyes. "Then... Maybe it's time you start accepting that the world doesn't revolve around you. You're so full of yourself."

"And you're being irrationally difficult," Jay snapped. "Maybe you think the world revolves around you."

Harsh fumed. "You can't waltz in and pity me."

"Yeah!" Jay feigned surprise. "Hey genius. High time you realize the world doesn't revolve around you. I'm no philanthropist because my family believes in earning one's place, not handing it for free. Pity is unavailable in this household. You can't afford it, brat. Get that in your thick skull for once and try to be sensible."

Harsh raised a brow, still not believing him. "You mean to say, you're doing this for your own advantage and not to pity me?"

Jay smacked his lips, looking up at some invisible camera. "Was I speaking in Arabic till now?" He glanced, incredulous.

"What will I get out of this truce then?" Harsh peered suspiciously.

The bull shrugged. "Figure that out."

Harsh blinked in disbelief. "Excuse me?" 

"How would I know what you'll get out of this? I'm responsible for myself, not you. Figure that out."

Harsh gaped. "You want me to call it a truce only because it benefits you?"

Jay stared, obvious. "Yeah. Why would I care about you?"

Harsh never felt relief and rage so toxically intertwined. Thankfully, this was not the bull's imposter!

"Well, fine then." He shrugged. "If you can help me ace the Youth Seminar, I call it a truce too."

Jay narrowed his eyes. "Youth Seminar? Why?" 

Harsh shrugged, keeping the secret to himself. If he told Jay he would be rewarded with a wish, the bull would try to sabotage his chances at victory.

Or worse, want his victory for himself!

He wouldn't spill the beans at all.

Harsh rolled his eyes, feigning boredom. "Agney gave me this lame challenge of... sorts. He will end my grounding earlier, if I successfully manage to hold up the event," he half-lied.

Jay glared pointedly, shoulders squared up. "It's Agney bhai." He huffed. "Listen brat, don't disrespect my brothers."

Harsh waved him off, moving towards the door. "Whatever."

"I'm not over. Yet."

He stopped, turning back. "What now?"

"Don't latch the door."

The hair at the back of his nape, rose. "Why not?" He asked, warily.

Jay frowned. "Because that's dangerous. What if you stumble and crack open your skull in bathroom? We're not superheroes who can break down a door for you. Keep it open. We do it all the times. And, why does even knocking exist if you're going to rely only on locks and latches?"

"Sounds very creepy to me. What if someone sneaks up and watches me sleep? Or tries to harm me?" Harsh counteracted, trying to make sense.

Jay frowned, baffled. "And... why would someone do that?"

Harsh froze, ears ringing.

"Our staff is reliable. Rusty, sometimes- yes. But not creepy. Why do you even think this way? Such a thought never crossed my mind," Jay confessed.

Harsh's eyes widened slightly. His heartbeat spiked up. He had said too much again. He grimaced, feigning indignation. "Dude, it's barely six. Stop interrogating me like CBI first thing in the morning. Aren't you jet lagged? Or, have college today? Live, and let me live," he diverted the conversation, and walked away.

Jay squinted after the brat, at his vivid paranoia. It baffled him. Why was he expecting danger when there was none? He thought the boy was completely reckless, however... his eyes flicked to his own door. His heart raced, fists clenching. What if someone really does sneak in the crybaby's room? 

The thought crossed his mind, unwarranted, heart thudding. His nostrils flared as he ran a restless hand through his damp hair, anxious.

God, the brat had spiked his heartbeat instead! What was wrong with him!