After some time, the president’s bodyguard called for Rohit and Isha to meet him privately. Without hesitation, the two followed, their minds filled with lingering questions.
As they stood before him, the bodyguard’s sharp gaze softened slightly. “First, I owe you both an apology for my rudeness earlier,” he said. “But understand, everything I did was necessary.”
Then, his expression turned serious. “I have three messages from the president.”
He raised his fingers, counting them off one by one.
“First—Rohit, Isha, I apologize for not accompanying you due to an internal matter.”
“Second—from this moment forward, you will begin to witness a hidden side of normal life, one that most ordinary humans never see.”
“Third—under Project M, Your training will be tailored to your skills. Train well.”
Rohit and Isha exchanged glances, absorbing the weight of these words. But before they could process further, the bodyguard’s expression darkened.
“Now, I need to add something of my own.” His voice carried a warning edge.
“Even though this place is a symbol of hope, do not—under any circumstances—speak of that tragedy or the survivors. Forget it. Erase it. From now on, you are just victims. Nothing more.”
Isha instinctively parted her lips to question him, but before a single word could escape, the bodyguard’s gaze sharpened like a blade. He lifted his index finger to his lips in a silencing gesture.
“Shh. Just listen to my words.”
The weight in his voice sent a shiver down Isha’s spine. She lowered her head, disappointment flashing across her face.
The bodyguard exhaled and, in a quieter tone, said, “I know what you want to ask. But you are not ready for the answers. Not yet.”
Then, his tone hardened again. “This is not just my warning—it’s also a personal request from Captain Rathore.”
At the mention of Rathore, a flicker of confidence returned to Isha’s eyes.
The bodyguard pressed on. “One more thing. Do not, under any circumstances, ask questions or even mention Ayaan—especially his family name.”
Rohit and Isha froze, their minds racing.
“Why Ayaan?” Rohit whispered, his brows furrowing. “Is he connected to Project M?”
The bodyguard’s face remained unreadable. “My next warning—no, my personal request.”
He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “If the time comes when you feel like all doors have closed… when you are drowning in final, absolute hopelessness… seek out the sage teaching swordsmanship here. Reach out to him.”
The president’s bodyguard, Rohit, and Isha all turned their gazes toward the old sage in white robes, effortlessly guiding his disciples through intricate sword techniques. His movements were fluid yet precise, radiating an air of wisdom and mastery. Among his students, a young man with a perfectly built physique wielded a flame sword, his strikes sharp and unwavering. The sight was mesmerizing—almost surreal.
The bodyguard clenched his fists, his expression unreadable. “Ma..That sage” he started, then hesitated. His grip tightened before he finally continued, “He will definitely help you.”
Rohit frowned, sensing something deeper behind his words. “Why him?” he asked.
The bodyguard’s eyes flickered with something unspoken. “Because he is my ma—” He abruptly stopped, exhaling sharply. Then, as if correcting himself, he said, “No… He is one of the four founders of Project M.”
As Rohit continued watching the old sage, his gaze drifted to the others training under him—the young man with the flame sword, the disciplined students who moved in perfect harmony. A quiet thought settled in his mind, lingering like an unanswered question.
“Is this truly the Unanswered Place of Hope?”
The bodyguard broke the silence with a final remark, his tone unusually soft. “Rohit, Isha—take care of each other. And don’t forget what I just said.”
*****************
The once-lively training grounds now stood nearly empty, the echo of countless drills and commands fading into the past. The training groups that had shaped their days were now disbanded, their members sent on different paths—some to new missions, some to uncertain futures.
Ayaan glanced around, his fingers unconsciously tightening on the strap of his half-packed bag. The absence of familiar voices weighed on him more than he expected. It was strange—how quickly everything could change, how one chapter could close without warning.
Behind him, Dev’s voice broke the silence, laced with teasing amusement. "Is your luggage packed yet, or should I do it for you?"
Ayaan exhaled, forcing a smirk. "I’m not that helpless." But beneath his words, an uneasy feeling lingered—a sense that something had shifted beyond his control, something he couldn’t quite name.
With one last glance at the now-empty training grounds, he slung the bag over his shoulder and stepped forward.
No matter what awaited him—
It was time to return home.
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