The air in the mansion trembled as a blinding light flared through the halls, followed by a deep, resonating hum. The doctors, along with the old man, rushed toward the source, their hearts pounding in a mix of fear and urgency.

  Inside the dimly lit lab, where strange machines blinked in eerie synchronization, they found two figures lying on the massive metal cot. Azhini was sprawled over Kavin, her head resting on his chest as if she had merely dozed off. The contrast was stark—her pristine white coat against his dark, casual attire. Despite the chaos of moments before, they both looked… at peace.

  Priya's sharp gasp sliced through the silence.

  “What the hell just happened here?!”

  Nila stood frozen, her hands covering her mouth, eyes wide in disbelief.

  Kumar, never one to miss an opportunity, let out a low whistle.

  The others turned to glare at him, making him raise his hands in defense.

  Senior Dr. Karthikeyan, ever the professional, ignored the side comments and swiftly moved to check Azhini’s vitals. He pressed a digital thermometer to her ear and frowned at the reading.

  “Her body temperature is alarmingly low… pulse weak… respiration shallow…” he reported grimly.

  The professor let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples as though expecting this outcome. The weight of the moment settled in.

  With nothing left to do but wait, the exhausted young doctors slumped onto the large, antique sofas in the hall. Priya took in the high ceilings, the tall, dusty bookshelves filled with ancient texts, and the whirring machines in the background.

  She huffed.

  “So this booth bangala–like lab is for artificially induced suspended animation?”

  The old man, ever the quiet observer, finally moved. Without a word, he placed steaming cups of coffee before them, the warmth seeping into their cold fingers.

  As Priya took a careful sip, she tilted her head toward their colleagues.

  “So, he’s indeed the same Kavin who mailed her back then?” She let out a dreamy sigh, her eyes practically turning into hearts. “Oh my goodness! They seem like destined lovers.”

  Karthikeyan, who had seen that exact look in Priya’s eyes whenever she read romance novels, shot her a look of utter disdain.

  “We don’t even know if they’ll wake up or survive. Can you be serious for once?”

  Priya shrugged, unfazed.

  “Senior, that’s why you’re still single even in your thirties. Marriages are made in heaven, you know. All of us are connected by the unknown red thread of fate.”

  Karthikeyan rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful.

  “If they don’t wake up, their marriage is more likely to be in heaven.”

  At that, Kumar—who had just taken a big gulp of coffee—choked and burst out laughing, sending coffee spraying onto Nila’s sleeve.

  Nila's slow turn toward Kumar was terrifying.

  A loud smack echoed through the hall.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Aiyo! Nila! That hurts!” Kumar whined, rubbing his arm where she had landed a solid slap.

  Before the commotion could escalate, the front doors of the mansion swung open with a sharp creak.

  Three figures strode inside with purpose.

  The first was a stocky young man with an easygoing aura, who paid no mind to the tense atmosphere. Without sparing a glance at the doctors, he made a beeline for the kitchen, muttering something about needing food.

  The second, a tall and striking man, carried himself with casual confidence, though his eyes were filled with barely concealed concern.

  The third was an elegant woman, her long hair swaying as she moved with practiced composure. Her gaze flickered toward the old man, searching for answers.

  After a brief, urgent conversation with the old man, the two turned toward the young doctors.

  The tall man smiled, but something about the way his eyes studied them made the atmosphere tense.

  “Hi, I’m Vigneshwaran. Call me Vicky.” He gestured toward the woman beside him. “This is Meera. We’re Kavin’s friends.”

  Before anyone could respond, Vicky’s sharp gaze swept over them, assessing, calculating. His next words sent a visible chill through the room.

  “I hope everyone here understands the gravity of this situation. This mansion is large and well-equipped. No one is leaving until my friend wakes up.”

  The doctors stiffened.

  “Your mobile phones are being hacked as we speak. If anyone tries to contact the police, the press, or leak this information online—” He smiled, a charming, disarming smile. “Let’s just say I won’t be as friendly as I am now.”

  A quiet ding echoed.

  Everyone’s phones vibrated at once.

  The girl sitting next to Vicky—Meera—didn’t even look up from her tablet as she murmured, “Done.”

  The doctors hesitantly checked their screens. Their network signals were gone. Any attempt to call, message, or connect to the internet was now blocked.

  Silence stretched in the room.

  Kumar gulped. “Well… we’re officially in a sci-fi movie.”

  Vicky clapped his hands once, breaking the tension.

  “Now, shall we go check on our patients?”

  With that, the group headed back into the eerie, softly humming lab, where Kavin and Azhini lay in their mysterious slumber—suspended between worlds, awaiting their fate.

  -----

  As Vicky and Meera entered the dimly lit lab, their initial worry was replaced by pure shock. Their expressions froze as they took in the sight before them—Kavin and Azhini lying motionless on the futuristic metal cot, Azhini’s head resting against Kavin’s chest in an oddly intimate pose.

  A loud crunch broke the silence.

  Mithun, who had been stuffing his mouth with chips, mumbled through a full mouth, “What’s up, guys? How’s his condi—”

  His words cut off the moment his eyes registered the scene.

  Half-chewed chips tumbled from his lips, landing messily on the floor.

  Priya, standing far too close to him, recoiled in disgust. “Ew!" She hastily sidestepped, pushing Kumar into the unfortunate spot she just vacated.

  Mithun, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, suddenly snapped in outrage.

  “Wait a damn minute! Are they dating already? Behind our backs? I’m the one who found her email ID! And this is how he repays me? How dare he not tell me anything?!”

  His dramatic exclamation was met with a sharp smack to the back of his head.

  “Ow!” Mithun clutched his head, wincing as he turned to glare at his attacker.

  Meera, who had delivered the blow with practiced elegance, raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow.

  Then, in a voice as soft as honey yet carrying an unmistakable edge, she turned to Kumar.

  “Explain.”

  Kumar, caught like a deer in headlights, opened his mouth but no sound came out. He turned helplessly toward the others, his face twisted in a silent plea.

  Karthikeyan sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’ll explain.”

  And so, with precise detail, he relayed everything—from Azhini’s strange discovery of the mystical engravings to the blinding light that swallowed her whole. The room grew quieter with every word.

  The moment he finished, Mithun’s jaw dropped. He pointed wildly at the unconscious pair.

  “Oh my god, so he actually completed it? And went in himself? Also—” he turned to the others, eyes wide with exaggerated disbelief, “—he took his girlfriend with him?! Can you believe it?! I have to tell someone about this—”

  With lightning speed, he whipped out his phone, only to find… nothing. No signal. No network. No internet.

  Mithun blinked. “Hey. What the—why is mine hacked?”

  Meera, still eerily calm, replied smoothly, “You were the first one.”

  Mithun turned his betrayed puppy eyes toward Vicky. “But we’re friends.”

  Vicky, leaning against the desk with a smirk that could only be described as villainous, simply replied, “Exactly.”

  Mithun clutched his chest. “That was unnecessary.”

  Ignoring his antics, Vicky strode toward the sleek control system positioned in the center of the lab. His fingers danced over the holographic interface, activating the monitors.

  The largest screen flickered to life, revealing a surreal sight:

  A vast, glowing blue world stretched endlessly, its skies shimmering like liquid sapphire. In the heart of it, at the very center of a swirling energy nexus, lay a figure dressed in pristine white, floating in a state of deep slumber. His expression was peaceful, undisturbed by the world around him.

  As if disrupting the serenity, a comet of light streaked across the screen. It shot toward the nexus like a falling star and—upon impact—unraveled into the form of a woman.

  Azhini.

  Her body was writhing, her face contorted in agony. The energy surrounding her flickered chaotically, as though something was rejecting her presence.

  A collective gasp filled the room.

  Priya clutched the nearest person’s arm—unfortunately for Kumar—her fingers digging into his skin as she stammered, “W-What is happening? Why is our friend Azhini lying there And she was look like she’s in… pain?”

  Meera, ever composed, exhaled softly. Her voice, though soothing, carried a heavy truth.

  “Don’t panic. What you’re seeing is called BCI—the Brain-Computer Interface. Your friends’ consciousness has been transmitted into the game world we created.”

  Silence.

  And then—

  “WHAT?!”

  The collective outcry from the doctors nearly shook the room.