Chương 192

The rain was loud. It hammered against the metal roof of the small car. It sounded like falling gravel. Inside the car, the windshield wipers squeaked. Thump-squeak. Thump-squeak. Three-year-old Rudra sat in the middle of the back seat. His legs stuck straight out in front of him. He kicked his heels against the fabric, bored and a little sleepy. The car was warm. It kept the dark Chennai monsoon outside. But the best part wasn't the warmth. It was the smell.

The whole car smelled like freshly cooked Biryani and grilled chicken. His dad, Suresh, sat in the driver's seat. He was a big man with a loud laugh and quite accompanied as Chef who managed to build and run several restaurants from the ground up. He loved feeding people. Even after a long shift at his restaurant, he didn't look tired. To little Rudra, that smell meant absolute safety.

"You falling asleep back there, little man?" his dad called out. He glanced in the rearview mirror. His eyes crinkled. Rudra rubbed his eyes.

"No."

"Good," his dad chuckled.

"Mom bought those fresh jalebis you like. We'll sneak in and steal the sweets before your brother even notices."

"Yeah," Rudra smiled. He pulled his small jacket tighter. They drove onto the main highway. Right in front of them, a large flatbed truck hauled construction materials. The truck hit a massive pothole hidden under the water. The whole vehicle jolted. The heavy canvas straps holding the cargo down snapped. Rudra's dad slammed on the brakes. The tires squealed, but the wet road offered no grip. The car slid forward. Thick steel beams slid off the truck. They bounced wildly on the wet road.

One massive steel pipe bounced up. It aimed directly at the center of their windshield. It was flying straight toward the middle of the back seat. Right at Rudra. His dad didn't scream. In a fraction of a second, he made a choice. He unbuckled his seatbelt. He threw his entire body to the left, lunging over the center console. He wrapped his big arms completely around his three-year-old son, pulling Rudra down against the seat. The crash was deafening. The steel beam shattered the windshield.

It tore through the center of the car like paper. It missed the driver's seat entirely, punching straight into the back. Rudra didn't feel the steel. His dad absorbed the entire impact. Rudra's head snapped sideways. His temple hit the window frame. A sharp pain shot through his skull. The world stopped spinning. The rain faded away. It got very quiet. Rudra lay trapped under his dad's heavy arms. He remembered the faint smile of relief on his father's face right before everything went dark. Rudra shot up in bed.

He gasped for air. He rubbed his eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. His bedroom was dark. The soft blue light from his VR capsule glowed quietly in the corner of the room. He threw the blanket off his legs. He was covered in a cold sweat. He hadn't had that nightmare in a year and a half. The last time he dreamt about the steel beams and the monsoon rain was the night before he actually got hit by a Truck-kun once again. Waking up with the memory fresh in his mind felt like a bucket of cold water to the face.

He stood up. He walked out of his bedroom and padded silently down the dark hallway. The floorboards were cool against his bare feet. He walked into the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and filled it with cold water from the fridge. He took a long drink, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Why is the dream back now?" Rudra mumbled to himself. He set the glass down. He stared at his reflection in the dark kitchen window. The dream always ended right at the crash. But standing there in the quiet house, his mind wandered to what happened next. He remembered waking up in the hospital a few days later. The room had smelled like strong bleach. His head felt heavy from the thick bandages. The door was cracked open.

He remembered hearing the doctor talking to his mom, Meera, and his twelve-year-old brother, Shiva, in the hallway. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"If your husband had stayed in his seat, with his seatbelt on, he would have survived," the doctor had said softly.

"He likely would have walked away with minor injuries. But he unbuckled. He moved directly into the path of the beam to shield your youngest son. He traded his life for the boy's." Meera let out a shuddering breath.

"He saved him."

"Yes," the doctor said.

"I also need to warn you. The head trauma, combined with the horror of the crash, has likely caused trauma-induced amnesia. He will probably wake up and remember absolutely nothing about the accident. His brain will lock the memory away."

"He won't remember?" Shiva asked.

"It is for the best. It spares him the nightmare." Rudra remembered hearing his mom shift her weight. Her voice suddenly sounded very firm.

"We never tell him," Meera said.

"If he knows his father died because he moved to save him, he will carry that guilt for the rest of his life. I don't want him thinking he killed his father. We tell him it was a terrible accident. We tell him the truck hit the front of the car. We let him keep his innocence. Promise me, Shiva."

"I promise, Mom," Shiva whispered. In the hospital bed, three-year-old Rudra stared at the white ceiling. The doctor was wrong. Rudra wasn't confused. He remembered everything. He opened his mouth. He wanted to call out. He wanted to tell them he was awake. But he stopped. He listened to his mom crying. He listened to his older brother trying to hold back sobs. They were already so sad. If he told them the truth—if he told them he knew his dad died entirely because of him—it would just hurt them more.

It would ruin the lie they were building to protect him. He made a choice right then and there. He would play dumb. He would let them believe the doctor. He would carry the secret alone so his family wouldn't have to be hurt more. Growing up with a massive secret was exhausting. To keep the lie intact, Rudra had to be careful about what he said. He started talking less. He didn't want to accidentally mention the steel beams or the smell of the rain. He just stayed quiet.

At first, the introversion was just a shield. A way to avoid slipping up. But as the years passed, he realized he actually preferred it. He didn't like making small talk. He hated crowded places. Keeping to himself was just easier. It was peaceful. The thoughts in his mind were simple: the closer he got to people, the more he had to talk. And the more he talked, the harder it was to keep his lie safe. There was only one place where he dropped his guard. The kitchen.

Rudra honestly loved eating way more than he liked cooking. As a kid, he was always hungry. But one day, when he was eight years old, he wanted to smell his dad's scent again. He dragged a stool to the stove and tried to make a simple dosa. He burned it completely, filling the house with thick, bitter smoke. Meera hadn't yelled. She just smiled sadly, turned the heat down, and showed him how to properly make a dosa on a low flame. Rudra kept cooking after that. He didn't do it because he wanted to be a famous chef.

He did it to honor the man who gave up his seat in the car. He wanted to recreate the meals his dad used to make. The problem was, the better he got at cooking, the more he wanted to eat. He turned into a gigantic glutton. He spent his teenage years tracking down new recipes, trying different street foods, and eating portions meant for three people. Food became his main motivation for basically everything. If he was sad, he ate biryani. If he was happy, he bought some sweets. Food never lied to him.

It never asked him to keep a secret. It was one of the main reasons which managed to keep him hooked in Satisfy. The real world only had so many flavors. He wanted to find different meat and weird ingredients that didn't exist in reality. He just wanted to hunt and eat in peace. He thought he had his life completely figured out. The secret was buried. His family was safe. Then, a year and a half ago, he stepped off a curb after a late shift at his IT job.

Truck-kun and some random ROB attempted to hit him at the exact same time. While he survived both accidents, it wasn't to say there were no side-effects to him absorbing the soul. The shattered pieces of the dead soul completely short-circuited his mind. His old habit of staying quiet dialed up to the absolute maximum. He didn't just want to be left alone anymore; he wanted to be totally invisible. He became extremely wary of anyone trying to get close to him. But it wasn't a perfect shield.

Sometimes, the static in his head cleared, and his normal self came through the extreme introversion. It was the reason he was constantly unlike himself in Satisfy. He bought a dark mask and a boring cloak because his maxed-out introversion wanted him to be an invisible, quiet solo player. But then his emotions would flare up, and he would fight thousands of monsters in front of a whole town. He claimed he hated people and wanted to be left alone.

Yet, he ended up adopting a divine beast, seven Red Knights, a legendary farmer and an undead magician. He swore he hated politics, but he became a Duke and built a massive city anyway. One minute he was a calm, patient guy carefully peeling potatoes. The next minute, he was slapping a Great Demon across the face because he wanted to test something. He was using his extreme introversion as a convenient excuse to hide, while his normal ego kept dragging him into the spotlight anyway.

Rudra crossed his arms, staring out the dark kitchen window. The foreign soul fragments were finally settling down. The static in his head was completely clearing up. And because of that, his oldest, deepest memory was bubbling right back to the surface as a dream tonight. He could finally believe that he was free from the influence of the soul fragments and would be himself again. Rudra stretched his arms over his head, popping his shoulders.

The lingering heaviness of the nightmare finally faded away, leaving his mind sharp and focused.