Naman and Rishi—both were the rich brats of the college, used to intimidating everyone, even professors. Most faculty members were afraid of them. But today, Varun had shattered their ego in front of the entire class. Humiliated and burning with anger, Naman stood up from his seat and snapped,
"Rishi, this professor crossed the line today. He insulted us in front of everyone and even threatened us. Now he has to be taught a lesson."
Rishi, who had been trying to control his rage until now, flared up after hearing Naman's words. Gritting his teeth, he said,
"You're absolutely right. If we let this go, then every other professor will think they can talk to us like that. He clearly doesn't know who we are. It's time we show him his place."
Hearing their conversation, a few other boys gathered around. One of them hesitantly said,
"But what will you guys do? Varun sir is someone who doesn't care about anything. Did you see his attitude? Even the staff is scared of him. Even Principal sir listens to him a lot."
Naman squinted his eyes and replied,
"Let them be scared—we're not among those who get scared. Now this professor won't be spared. We'll do something so intense that he'll remember for the rest of his life who he messed with."
Rishi pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
"It's time to teach him a lesson. If he thinks he can humiliate us and live in peace, he's wrong. We'll show him what we're capable of."
His tone hinted that something serious and dangerous was about to go down. Naman smirked—a smile that clearly pointed toward a brewing conspiracy.
Meanwhile, Varun had stepped out of the classroom. His face, as always, was serious. Just as he crossed the doorway, he came face-to-face with Professor Sheetal—the daughter of the college principal.
Seeing Varun, Sheetal's face lit up. There was that same old mischief in her eyes—the kind Varun always tried to avoid. She casually tucked her hair back and smiled,
"Oh, Varun! You should try relaxing sometimes. Being this strict all the time isn't good for anyone."
Without any expression, Varun glanced at her and continued walking. But Sheetal quickly stepped in front of him and blocked his path.
"Hey, you can't just walk away like that! Come on, let's go for a coffee. There's a new café nearby—I've heard their coffee is amazing. I want to try it with you."
Varun sighed deeply and replied,
"I'm not interested, Professor Sheetal. Besides, I only like coffee made by my own hands. So, I won't be going with you. You can try it with someone else."
Sheetal smiled, pretending to be annoyed,
"So much attitude! Maybe that's why everyone likes you so much. But one day, Varun, you *will* listen to me."
Varun walked away without saying anything, but Sheetal kept watching him as he left. There was a strange stubbornness in her eyes. She softly muttered under her breath,
"Let's see how long you keep ignoring me, Mr. Varun Gupta. One day, I *will* make you mine."
She said it with complete confidence.
Varun headed straight home from college. As soon as he entered the house, he locked the door behind him and placed his laptop on the sofa. Without wasting time, he walked directly toward the basement.
From the outside, the basement looked like a regular storeroom. But in reality, it hid the entrance to a secret room.
He gently pushed an old painting hanging on the wall, which activated a hidden sensor. With a soft beep, a keypad slid open. Varun quickly entered his unique passcode, and within seconds, a portion of the wall slid open—revealing a secret chamber.
Without wasting a moment, Varun stepped inside.
As he entered, his eyes fell on the monitors and high-tech equipment surrounding the room. This was his hidden world—the place where he worked on his real mission.
Being a professor was just a façade. His true purpose was something entirely different.
His life had only one goal: **to avenge his father's death**.
Everyone responsible for his father's demise was on his hit list.
All around the room were files, newspaper clippings, and piles of documents. At the center of the room was a large board filled with photos. Some of them had a red cross marked over them—people Varun had already taken care of.
At the very center of the board was a photograph of **Rajveer Rathore**.
Staring at it like a predator watching his prey, Varun's eyes blazed with hatred. There was a strange gleam in his eyes, as if he was renewing a solemn vow.
He stepped forward, slowly ran his fingers across Rajveer's photo, and muttered,
"The score between us is not settled yet.
What you took from me—I'll make you pay for every bit of it."
His gaze was locked on the photo of Rajveer Rathore at the center of the board. Flames of rage burned in his eyes.
His fingers slowly curled into a tight fist.
Suddenly, his mind drifted three years into the past—lost in memories.
**Three Years Ago…**
**Surya Gupta**—Varun's father—had just returned home from work that evening.
His face was marked with exhaustion and deep worry lines. As soon as he entered, he sat down on the sofa and held his head. His head was pounding with pain.
Varun, who had been reading at the dining table, immediately rushed over. He noticed his father seemed unusually disturbed.
"Dad, what's wrong? You've been looking really stressed for a few days now. Is everything okay?" Varun asked, placing a glass of water in front of him.
Surya took the glass but didn't drink it. He just kept staring at it silently. Then, after a deep sigh, he finally spoke,
"Nothing is okay, son. The company is about to implement a new policy, and it's absolutely unfair to the employees. If it goes through, hundreds of families could be ruined."
Hearing that, Varun's eyebrows knitted together.
"Then why don't you do something about it, Dad?"
Surya gave a faint smile, but the concern didn't leave his face.
"That's exactly what I'm doing, son. I've raised my voice against it. If needed, I'll even file a case against the company."
Varun felt proud of his father's honesty and courage. He knew his dad always stood up for what was right. But he didn't realize that this fight would change their lives forever.
"Alright, Dad. Don't stress too much. I believe in you. You've always stood up for the people, and you've won before. You're on the path of truth—victory is certain."
Hearing that, Surya smiled and said,
"Truth doesn't always win, son. Sometimes lies and corruption overshadow it.
They suffocate the truth until it's dead."
"But Dad, haven't you always won?"
"That's what you think, son. You've only seen me winning. That's why you're unaware of the harsh reality.
In this world, truth is buried overnight.
Even after committing major crimes, people roam free—thanks to power and money. They twist lies into truth."
Hearing this, Varun became visibly worried.
"Dad, now I'm really concerned for you. What if those people do something to you?"
Surya chuckled lightly,
"My strong son is getting scared so easily?
You must never back down, no matter how difficult the challenge. You are my son. You have to fight for the truth, even if it costs you everything.
I don't want to see you become a scared, weak man. The world already has enough of those. What it needs are honest, brave, and dedicated people. Got it?"
Surya gently ruffled Varun's hair.
"I got it, Dad!" Varun replied with a smile.
That very night...
Varun and his father, Surya, were sitting across from each other at the dining table.
A simple yet delicious meal was laid out—chapati, dal, and vegetables.
They always cooked together—father and son.
Surya seemed a little quiet, but he forced a smile so that Varun wouldn't sense his worry.
"Dad, you're not eating properly," Varun pointed to the half-eaten food on his father's plate.
Surya gave a faint smile but said nothing.
Just then, Surya's phone screen lit up with an unknown number.
He hesitated for a moment, then picked up the call.
"Hello?" he said in a low voice.
But the moment he heard the voice on the other end, the color drained from his face.
His eyes widened, his throat went dry, and his hand began to tremble.
"What?!" he exclaimed, startled.
Varun immediately noticed the rising tension and fear on his father's face.
"Dad, what happened? Who was it?"
Surya didn't respond. He took a deep breath, gripped the phone tightly, and pushed his chair back as he stood up.
"Varun beta, I have to go out urgently," he said quickly, grabbing his jacket.
"Right now? But it's so late…"
"Son, it's very important!" Surya cut him off mid-sentence and rushed toward the door.