The morning after the bypass chase, the air in Dhanbad was thick with the smell of wet coal and exhaust. Arjun stood by the basement window, watching his father sleep. Ramesh looked peaceful, tucked into a corner of the dingy room, unaware that his son was currently worth more than the entire village of Baridih combined.
Arjun looked at the Samsung S24 Ultra. The balance was staggering: ?3.07 Crore. But as he tried to initiate a transfer to his primary savings, the screen flashed a crimson warning.
[LIMIT REACHED: WITHDRAWAL RESTRICTED]
[REASON: HIGH-VOLUME AVIATOR SURGE]
[ACTION REQUIRED: VISIT A CHARTERED ACCOUNTANT TO OPEN A PREMIUM CURRENT ACCOUNT]
Gulp. The "System" had its own gates. He couldn't just walk into a bank in Itki and ask for three crores. He needed Mehta Ji or someone even higher. He needed a legitimate business structure that could swallow a whale of a profit without choking.
"Amit," Arjun whispered, stepping into the hallway. "We’re sending Papa back today. But we aren't sending him back to that broken shed."
Amit looked up from his tablet. "How? If we send a construction crew from Ranchi, the whole village will talk. They’ll think we’ve turned into 'Thekedars' (contractors) over a weekend."
"We don't send a crew," Arjun said, his sovereign aura returning, though softened by the thought of home. "We use the Government Scheme as a cover. Kamala, Anisa, and Santoshi are already working with Sughar Singh on the housing scheme. We’ll 'donate' to the scheme anonymously. We’ll make it look like the Panchayat received a grant for 'Model Village Housing'."
Arjun’s mind worked with the precision of a master architect. He would renovate the Baridih house—replacing the mud walls with high-grade brick, the thatch with sturdy tiles, and adding a proper borewell. It would be the best house in the village, but it would still be a village house.
Priya listened to the plan, her arms crossed. She admired the tactical brilliance, but the emotional cost worried her.
"You're going to make your father believe the government is suddenly being generous?" she asked. "Ramesh Kaka has been waiting for a housing grant for fifteen years. He’s going to be suspicious, Arjun."
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"Not if the papers look real," Arjun replied, turning to his laptop. "I’ll forge the 'Approval Letter' on the Block Development Office’s letterhead. I’ll make sure Sughar Singh delivers it. Sughar will take the credit, which he’ll love, and Papa will get a house that doesn't leak when it rains. It’s a win-win."
Arjun walked back into the basement. Ramesh was awake, folding his cloth bag.
"Arjun, I’m going back," Ramesh said, his voice firm. "This city... it’s not for me. And you... you work hard here, but don't forget the soil. Don't forget that your mother’s soul is in that house in Baridih."
"I know, Papa," Arjun said, helping him up. "Actually, I have good news. Sughar Phufa called. The housing grant finally came through. They’re starting work on the house next week. You need to be there to supervise. Make sure they use good cement."
Ramesh’s eyes widened. "The grant? After all these years?" He let out a shaky breath, a smile finally breaking through his fatigue. "God is great, Arjun. Maybe your 'Digital' luck is rubbing off on the whole family."
After Ramesh was safely tucked into a "verified" taxi—this time driven by a man Tiger Singh personally guaranteed—Arjun turned to the task of the Premium Account.
He met Mehta Ji at a private club in Dhanbad. The CA looked nervous. He knew about the "Squeeze" and he knew Arjun had used him as bait for the Syndicate.
"I need a Premium Current Account, Mehta," Arjun said, placing the S24 Ultra on the table. "The Aviator winnings are piling up. I can't move them without a high-tier corporate identity."
Mehta Ji wiped his brow. "It’s not just about the account, Arjun. To move three crores, you need a 'Chartered Accountant’s Certificate of Net Worth.' I have to audit your 'Logistics Software' and prove it’s generating that much revenue. If I sign those papers, I’m putting my license on the line."
"Your license is already on the line, Mehta," Arjun said, his voice a cold, low vibration. "Sign the papers. Create the account under 'AK Digital Holdings.' I want the first withdrawal to be ?20 Lakhs—earmarked for the 'Village Development Project'."
While Arjun handled the finance, Amit headed to the railway station. He saw Sanjay sitting on a bench, looking like a broken man.
Amit didn't feel pity. He felt the cold efficiency of the "Operations Head."
"The train leaves in ten minutes, Sanjay Bhaiya," Amit said, standing over him. "Bhaiya sent you this."
He handed Sanjay a thick envelope. It contained ?50,000—not a reward, but a "farewell."
"Go back to Gujarat," Amit warned. "If you ever use Papa as bait again, I won't wait for Arjun’s permission. I’ll handle it the Dhanbad way."
Sanjay looked at the money, then at the boy he used to bully. He didn't say a word. He got on the train.
Arjun walked through the North-Siding gates. He saw the trucks moving, the coal dust rising like a dark prayer. He felt the ?20 Lakh transfer hit the "Project" account.
He looked at his watch.
36 days until Lapung. The house in Baridih was being rebuilt. The money was being washed. The family was safe—for now. But as he looked at the "Premium" account status on his screen, he saw a new notification.
[INCOMING MESSAGE: THE COAL LORD WANTS TO SEE YOU. NOT TIGER. THE REAL ONE.]
Arjun felt a chill. There was someone above Tiger Singh. A "Real" Coal Lord. And they had noticed the ?3 Crore surge.
Gulp. "The game just got a lot bigger," Arjun whispered.
