Arjun was waiting.
He wasn't surprised when he heard the heavy, frantic footsteps pounding up the stairs to his apartment. He hadn't just hoped Prakash Murthy would find him. He had calculated it.
He'd used the [Path of Least Resistance] again.
[Goal: Ensure Prakash Murthy finds me.]
[Result: Purchase envelope from the shop closest to your mother's known route. The shopkeeper's familiarity with 'Radha-teacher' and her son 'Arjun' is the highest probability link. 85% chance of success.]
The System was never wrong.
The door burst open. Not with a knock, but with a hard, desperate push.
Prakash Murthy stood in the doorway, breathing heavily, his expensive shirt rumpled and damp with sweat. His eyes scanned the room—the simple cots, the small kitchen, the tiny prayer altar—before landing on the 12-year-old boy sitting calmly at a small wooden desk, a 10th-standard physics book open in front of him.
Behind him, Radha Varma rushed in. "Arjun! This man, he... he says... I don't..."
Arjun slowly closed his book. He turned and looked up at the CEO. His gaze wasn't that of a child. It was the ancient, appraising stare of a predator, a king, or a god.
"Mr. Murthy," Arjun said. His voice was high-pitched, but his tone was ice. "You were faster than I expected. Please, come in. My mother was about to make tea."
Prakash's mind simply... broke. The disconnect between the child he saw and the intellect he knew was too vast. He stumbled forward, ignoring Radha completely.
"You... You are 'A.V.'? Arjun Varma?"
"I am," Arjun replied, gesturing to the only other chair in the room. "Please, sit. You look distressed."
"Arjun, what is this?" Radha cried out, her hand to her mouth. "What are you saying? Apologize to this gentleman!"
"It's alright, Mom," Arjun said, his voice softening only for her. "This is business. Why don't you get Mr. Murthy some water?"
Stunned into obedience by her son's unnatural calm, Radha nodded and went to the kitchen, her hands shaking.
The moment she was gone, the atmosphere in the room changed. It became a boardroom.
Prakash sat, perching on the edge of the small wooden chair. He was no longer a CEO. He was a supplicant.
"The code," Prakash whispered, leaning in. "Who wrote it? Your father? An uncle?"
"I wrote it," Arjun said flatly. "And you know I did, or you wouldn't be here. You would be trying to find my 'uncle' instead of frightening my mother at her local shop."
Prakash flinched, hit by the truth. "How... how is this possible?"
"That," Arjun said, tapping his temple, "is my trade secret. The 'how' doesn't matter. What matters is that your company is three months from bankruptcy. What matters is that I just gave you a lifeboat. The question you should be asking, Mr. Murthy, is not how I did it. It's what I want for it."
Prakash finally regained a sliver of his business sense. This wasn't a child. This was... something else. He took a deep breath.
"What do you want?" he asked. "Money? I can get you... I can get you fifty thousand rupees." It was a lie. He'd have to sell his car.
Arjun smiled. It was a cold, pitying smile.
"Fifty thousand rupees?" Arjun replied. "You insult me, Mr. Murthy. You are holding a key that can make you the next Wipro. A key that can make you crores. And you offer me the price of a second-hand scooter."
Prakash swallowed. "Then... what? A lakh? I can't..."
"I don't want your money," Arjun said, cutting him off. "You don't have any money to give. You have something far more valuable. You have a company."
Prakash froze. "What?"
"I want thirty percent," Arjun stated. "Thirty percent of Bharat-Tech. Equity. Transferred into a trust, in my name."
"Thirty...!" Prakash leaped from his chair. "That's insane! That's... that's my entire life's work! For one piece of code?"
"It's not 'one piece of code,'" Arjun said, his voice rising with a sudden, terrifying authority that pinned the older man in place.
"It's the first piece. It's the lifeboat. I am the only one who can navigate it. Without me, you will crash. You have the company, but I have the vision. I have the knowledge."
He leaned forward, his small hands flat on his desk. "Your company is currently worth nothing. Thirty percent of nothing is nothing. I am offering to turn that 'nothing' into 'everything.' Your only other choice," Arjun shrugged, "is to go bankrupt. The choice is yours. You have one day to decide."
Radha returned with a glass of water, sensing the unbearable tension.
Prakash Murthy looked at the 12-year-old boy. He saw no fear. No bluff. He saw only the cold, hard certainty of a strategist who had already won.
He was looking at A.V. He was looking at his new boss.