The next day, Agastya almost forgot about what had happened.
Children forget quickly.
Or at least—they try to.
That morning, Lucian handed him a small box. It was simple, neatly packed.
"Take these," he said calmly. "Share them with your classmates."
Agastya opened it slightly and saw chocolates inside. His eyes lit up instantly.
"Really?" he asked, almost surprised.
Lucian gave a small nod. "Yes. Go on… make some friends."
For a brief moment, hope returned.
Maybe yesterday was just a mistake. Maybe things would be different today.
Agastya held the box tightly as he walked toward school, as if it carried more than just chocolates—as if it carried a second chance.
He reached the school gate, paused for a moment, and took a deep breath before stepping inside.
The classroom looked exactly the same.
The same desks.
The same walls.
The same children.
But the moment he entered—
The feeling returned.
The silence.
The distance.
The invisible wall between him and everyone else.
Nothing had changed.
Agastya's grip on the chocolate box tightened slightly, but he didn't stop. A small, hopeful smile appeared on his face as he walked toward a girl sitting near the window.
He approached slowly, carefully, as if even his presence needed permission.
"Here…" he said softly, holding out a chocolate.
The girl looked at him.
Her eyes widened.
And suddenly—
She started crying.
The entire class turned toward them.
"What happened?"
"Why is she crying?"
"She went near him!"
The whispers returned—sharper, louder, more cruel than before.
Agastya froze.
His hand remained in the air, still holding the chocolate.
For a moment, he didn't understand what had just happened.
Then slowly—
He lowered his hand.
Something inside him cracked.
The teacher rushed in, trying to calm the situation. "It's okay, it's okay… everyone sit down," she said, glancing briefly at Agastya before looking away.
But the damage had already been done.
Now—
He wasn't just different.
He was something to be feared.
Agastya quietly walked back to his seat and sat in the corner.
Silent.
Still.
The chocolates remained unopened in his hand.
During the break, he stood near the corridor, not really intending to listen—but he heard them anyway.
Children talking in low voices.
"My mother said he is cursed…"
"Don't go near him…"
"He might do something…"
Agastya stood still.
Every word felt heavier than the last.
His chest tightened. His throat burned.
He wanted to cry.
But he didn't.
Instead, he turned away.
And walked off.
Slowly.
Quietly.
That day, something changed.
Not outside.
But inside him.
From that moment, Agastya stopped trying.
He stopped smiling at others.
Stopped approaching them.
Stopped expecting anything.
He chose silence.
He chose distance.
If they were avoiding him—
Then he would do the same.
It was easier that way.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
Agastya adapted.
He sat alone.
Ate alone.
Played alone.
But he never complained.
At home—
He was loved.
And slowly, he convinced himself—
That was enough.
Lucian noticed everything.
The silence.
The change.
The absence of questions.
But he had no answers.
One night, after Agastya had fallen asleep, Lucian stood beside his bed, watching him quietly. The soft light from the lamp fell on Agastya's face, making him look peaceful—untouched by the world outside.
Lucian's expression slowly hardened.
Then—
He made a decision.
The next day, Lucian carefully collected a small blood sample.
Professionally.
Precisely.
He ran tests.
Again.
And again.
Every result came back the same.
Normal.
Perfectly normal.
No abnormalities.
No mutations.
No explanation.
Lucian stared at the reports for a long time.
For the first time in his life—
Science had nothing to say.
Months passed.
Then—
Years.
Two years went by.
Agastya grew.
Not just in age—
But in silence.
He had learned to live alone.
To exist without expectations.
But at home—
He was still the same.
Loved.
Protected.
And in his mind—
That was enough.
Then—
His fifth birthday arrived.
Lucian decided to do something different.
A celebration.
A big one.
The house was decorated with lights and music filled the air. Guests arrived one by one—Lucian's friends, along with their children.
For the first time—
Agastya wasn't alone among people his age.
Children approached him.
Not out of fear—
But curiosity.
They handed him gifts.
Small ones.
Simple ones.
But for Agastya—
They meant everything.
For the first time—
Someone his age gave him something.
He smiled.
Genuinely.
Hope returned.
Just a little.
Then—
The door opened.
Silence followed.
A woman entered.
Elegant.
Confident.
Her presence alone changed the atmosphere of the room.
She walked forward slowly, her eyes fixed on Agastya.
Then she spoke—
"Lord Agastya…"
The room fell silent.
"Take a bow."
Confusion spread across the faces of the guests.
Lucian immediately stepped forward.
"What brings you here so late?" he asked calmly.
She smiled faintly. "Business," she replied. "Deals don't wait."
Then her gaze shifted back to Agastya.
"But how is our little prince?"
She stepped closer.
"Come here," she said softly.
Agastya walked toward her, curious but cautious.
"Happy Birthday, Agastya," she said, handing him a gift.
He opened it.
His eyes widened.
A huge set of cars—detailed, shining, far more expensive than anything he had ever seen.
The room reacted instantly.
"That's the latest model…"
"It costs a fortune…"
"More than our salary…"
Whispers filled the air again.
Lucian stood silently, listening.
Observing.
Then he spoke—
"Enjoy the party."
His tone was calm.
But controlled.
Later, Lucian and the woman stepped outside. Their conversation was quiet, serious, and unheard by anyone else.
After a few minutes, she turned and walked toward her car.
As she reached the door, she paused.
Her expression changed.
"Those eyes…" she murmured softly.
Something about them felt familiar.
Unsettling.
She slowly looked at her left arm.
Deep scars marked her skin.
Old.
But violent.
Her leg carried similar marks.
Signs of a past battle.
She exhaled.
"I'm overthinking…" she whispered. "He's just a normal boy."
But her eyes—
Said otherwise.
She stepped into her luxury car.
And left.
Inside the house, Agastya sat quietly, holding his gift.
But his eyes were not on the cars.
They were distant.
Thinking.
Observing.
Understanding something—
No one else could.
Because the world still believed—
He was just a child.
But slowly…
Very slowly…
Something within Agastya—
Was awakening....