Vicky's scientific phase lasted less than a day.
He was already on Test 4: Sentient Beings?
A test he should not have attempted.
Minecraft was open.
A chicken stood in front of his character, idle and expressionless.
Vicky lowered his voice.
"Alright, buddy. Just a quick pull. Quietly."
He pressed his thumb on the screen.
A cold pulse.
The familiar pull.
Then—
BWUK-BWUK-BGAAA!
A full-sized, flapping chicken appeared on his lap.
Alive. Loud. Terrified.
Vicky grabbed at it. Feathers exploded everywhere.
"Shh—shut up! Please!" He struggled to contain the bird as it smacked his face with a wing, jumped off the bed, and bolted across the room.
A bottle fell. The chicken screeched again.
From the hall:
"VICKY?! Kya hua? Murga aa gaya kya andar?!"
He froze.
"No, Maa!" he called back instantly. "Phone! Ringtone! Chicken… ringtone!"
Silence.
A doubtful silence.
Then footsteps moved away.
Vicky exhaled, cornered the chicken behind a cricket bat, and bundled it inside his blanket. The muffled "bwuk…" signaled surrender.
He wiped his forehead. Feathers stuck to his shirt.
"This was a mistake," he muttered.
The chicken blinked at him from inside the blanket, equally done with the situation.
Keeping it was impossible.
Releasing it outside was worse. His housing society WhatsApp would riot.
One idea came. Risky, but the only one.
Sharma Aunty's terrace.
She was half-deaf and always asleep at this time.
He leaned out of his window and lobbed the blanket-wrapped chicken onto her terrace with careful aim.
A soft thud.
Silence.
Then—
"Bwuk?"
And right after:
"Arre! Bhagwan ne murga bheja! Prasad! Prasad!"
Vicky shut the window and leaned against the wall, expression blank.
New Rule: Never pull living creatures.
The next morning, he resumed safer tests.
He pulled a "Speed Boost" protein bar from a racing game.
He took a bite.
It tasted like chalk mixed with petrol.
He spat it out immediately.
Then, a "Stamina Elixir" from a fantasy RPG.
A single sip made his fingers tingle for an hour.
He shook his hand repeatedly.
"Not doing that again."
Finally, he pulled a bowl of ramen from a life-simulator.
It looked perfect.
Steam. Aroma. Presentation.
He tasted it.
Salt and wet cardboard.
He gagged into the wastebasket.
Ankit walked in.
"What died in here?" he asked, nose wrinkling. "Smells like… disappointment."
"Get out," Vicky said, wiping his mouth.
"Mom said come drink your chai," Ankit replied. "You're 'studying' too much."
In the hall, he sat with his family.
His father reading the newspaper.
His mother scrolling through photos.
Ankit eyeing the jalebi on his plate.
The usual noise felt grounding.
He sipped his chai slowly.
This was his real world.
Not fantasy menus.
Not big schemes.
Just… home.
Maybe he didn't need to build anything grand yet.
Maybe learning to protect the small things was enough.
His mother spoke without looking up:
"Vicky, Wi-Fi is slow again. And my phone has a virus. Keeps showing ads for 'Singles in your area'. Fix it."
Vicky sighed.
So be it.
No magic.
No coins.
No chickens.
Just tech support.
The first real duty of his so-called secret life.
He picked up her phone.
"Okay Maa. I'll fix it."