Chapter 5

Rishi sat on the edge of the bed, fingers rubbing his sore wrists, eyes darting around the room. His mind raced. I cannot stay here. I will not stay here. There has to be a way out.

He scanned the walls, looking for any imperfection, any weakness, anything he could exploit. That's when he noticed it—a faint hollow sound when he knocked on one section of the wall. Hmm... interesting.

He placed his palm flat against the wall and pressed, then tapped gently with his knuckles. The hollow sound was clearer. His heart raced with a mixture of panic and excitement. Could it be? Is there actually a hidden passage?

Rishi's eyes gleamed. He needed a heavy object. Something strong enough to smash the wall. His gaze fell on a large, ornate golden vase near the corner. Perfect. He heaved it with all his might, the veins in his arms popping. The vase barely moved an inch. He grunted. Okay... maybe not perfect, but it's heavy enough.

Sweat dripped down his forehead as he lifted it again, muscles straining. His back ached from the awkward angle, and his arms trembled violently. I'm too weak... I'm too short... my arms are going to fall off... oh gods, this is exhausting!

He pressed the vase against the wall and slammed it with every ounce of strength he could muster. The first few hits barely left a mark. Rishi groaned, frustration and determination battling in his chest. No, no, no! I cannot fail! I refuse to be decorative furniture in Vasuki's palace!

After what felt like an eternity, he paused, leaning against the wall, chest heaving, sweat soaking his clothes. His arms shook violently, back screaming in protest. He pressed his palm against the wall again, feeling the slight give. A tiny crack!

Rishi's eyes widened, adrenaline surging. He grabbed the vase with renewed vigor, swinging it against the wall again and again, ignoring the burn in his arms and the sharp pain shooting down his spine. Each hit chipped more plaster away. Dust clouded the room, making him cough and gag, but he didn't stop. Almost there... almost there... come on!

Finally, with one particularly desperate, shrieking swing, a section of the wall gave way with a loud crack. Rishi stumbled backward, heart hammering, breathing ragged. The broken plaster crumbled, leaving a jagged opening. He pressed his hands against the edges, staring through it.

Beyond the wall, light poured in—soft, golden, almost heavenly. His eyes widened, pupils dilating at the sight. The path to freedom... maybe even to heaven... I'm finally... I'm actually going to make it out...

Rishi wriggled and squeezed through the jagged hole, scraping his arms and back, gasping as he finally landed on solid floor on the other side. He stumbled to his feet, heart pounding, and for a fleeting moment, let out an evil, triumphant laugh. "Ha! Take that, Vasuki! Who's decorative furniture now?"

But the moment he opened his eyes fully and looked ahead, his triumphant laugh froze mid‑note and turned into a strangled cry.

The jagged wall he had broken opened into a giant, opulent hall, larger than anything he had imagined. At the far end, on a raised dais, Vasuki sat imperiously, golden eyes gleaming, perfectly composed. His concubine was almost clinging to him, laughter dancing in her tone, her body draped over him in casual dominance.

Behind them, Parikshit stood, motionless, eyes like sharp blades, scrutinizing Rishi with an intensity that made every nerve in his body quake.

And in that instant, Rishi realized the full horror of his situation. The hall, the Serpent King, the concubine, the loyal, terrifyingly perfect Parikshit—they were all watching him.

Rishi froze, legs trembling, chest heaving, face flaming red from exertion and embarrassment. The heroic escape he had envisioned had crumbled into sheer mortification. He had broken free... only to step straight into the lion's den, fully exposed, utterly helpless, and completely caught.

His triumphant grin disappeared, replaced by a mortified, wide-eyed stare. Oh gods... I am so, so, so dead.

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