Location: Mumbai, India
Time: 1:30 a.m.
Heavy rain. Dark clouds. Fear and silence.
The city of dreams—but not everything that shines is gold.
In this city, where huge deals were made in daylight, blood was spilled in the darkness of night.
Tonight was no different.
Rain was pouring heavily. Thick drops hit the road, creating a terrifying atmosphere.
Mumbai's rain is unpredictable—just like its mafia world.
Far away from the city, amidst dense forests, stood an old cottage.
From the outside, it looked ordinary, but what was happening inside could shake anyone's soul.
"Help! Please, someone help me!"
The screams dissolved into the air, but there was no one to listen.
Inside, a middle-aged man lay badly injured.
Blood dripped from his face, and deep marks of torture covered his body.
Men dressed in black stood all around, guns in their hands.
There was no mercy in their eyes—only waiting. Waiting for someone to arrive.
Suddenly, headlights flashed outside the cottage.
One by one, five cars stopped there.
Several bodyguards stepped out of the first car and surrounded the entire area.
Then the door of the middle black car opened—
And he stepped out.
A black trench coat, black boots, shining gloves, and a mask on his face.
The moment he appeared, the people standing there froze.
Devil King.
At the very mention of his name, everyone stood straight.
He was no ordinary man—
He was another name for death.
The most dangerous mafia boss in the world—The Devil King.
He walked into the cottage with slow, heavy steps.
The sound of his boots echoed through the room.
He sat down on a black leather sofa and cast a cold glance at the injured man—
who was now crawling toward him on his knees.
"Devil King… please forgive me!"
His voice trembled.
"I'll never do it again. Please spare me!"
There was no emotion in Devil King's eyes.
In a cold tone, he said,
"I have no forgiveness for traitors."
He slowly stood up and gently stroked the head of the black panther sitting near his feet.
"I hate lies, betrayal, and deception.
Someone who betrays once will do it again."
He made a slight gesture—
And the very next moment, the panther roared and pounced on the man.
"No! Devil King, please—no!"
But it was already too late.
Only screams echoed through the room.
Shivansh Oberoi, also known as the Devil King,
stood silently watching it all—
no reaction, no emotion.
In fact, it was as if watching this brought him peace.
A few minutes later, when everything went quiet, he said coldly,
"Finish the work and dispose of the body."
Varun Mittal, his closest friend, nodded.
"Yes, Boss."
At his signal, a few men took the body outside.
Devil King took a deep breath, removed his gloves, and without wasting a second, walked toward his car.
His convoy sped through the streets of Mumbai.
But suddenly, the car stopped at a traffic signal.
Shivansh was working on his laptop when lightning flashed.
He looked out of the window.
His attention went to the other side of the road—
where a girl was fixing her car tire in the rain.
Her back was toward him, her body completely drenched.
Her yellow saree clung to her skin.
Unknowingly, Shivansh's gaze fixed on the curve of her fair waist.
He saw a drop of water slowly slide down her back
and disappear into her saree.
A strange restlessness stirred in his heart.
Just then, the signal turned green—and the car moved on toward its destination.
A little later, the car stopped in front of Oberoi Mansion.
Oberoi Mansion
A beautiful, luxurious mansion far from the city.
As royal as it looked from the outside, it was equally mysterious inside.
No one could imagine that the man living in this palace was not just a businessman—
but the most dangerous man in Asia.
The cars stopped outside the mansion.
Shivansh Oberoi, the Devil King, walked straight inside.
As soon as he opened the door, a boy ran toward him and jumped on him.
"Brother! You've come after so many days!"
He was Rishi Oberoi—Shivansh's younger brother,
who had just returned from abroad after completing his studies.
Shivansh glared at him, his eyes narrowing.
"Get down."
His voice was cold as he put him down.
"Brother! Is this how you meet your younger brother?" Rishi said angrily.
Varun Mittal, Shivansh's closest friend and business partner, laughed.
"Rishi, you know what he's like."
"I know everything, but I'm meeting you after so many days—can't you show a little love?"
Just then, Neha Shastri, a world-famous doctor, came and hugged Rishi.
Neha was their childhood friend.
"Rishi! After so many days!"
"Neha di! I missed you so much!"
After a while, Parth, Shivansh's personal assistant, also arrived.
Everyone was laughing and chatting—
when suddenly, silence fell in the hall.
Shivansh sat on the sofa, quiet and serious.
Rishi slowly walked up to him and sat on his lap.
"Brother… when I was abroad, everyone's family came to meet them.
But no one came to see me."
As he said this, tears rolled down his eyes.
Shivansh didn't say anything—he just gently stroked his head.
Within minutes, Rishi fell asleep in his lap.
Watching all this, Varun said,
"Shivansh, don't punish this innocent child for others' mistakes.
You know Rishi and Riddhi are not like you.
At least show them some love.
You're not just a brother to them—you're their whole world.
They just want a little affection.
I know you do all this for their safety,
but your behavior hurts them."
"This world is not theirs, Shivansh…"
But Shivansh didn't reply.
He quietly lifted Rishi in his arms, took him to his room, put him to bed,
and then went to the balcony of his own room and lit a cigarette.
The rain was still falling.
He kept watching the rain—
and suddenly remembered the girl
he had seen fixing her car in the rain.
Just a few seconds' glimpse,
but that memory stirred an uneasy feeling in his heart.
Will Shivansh understand this restlessness?
What compulsion forces him to stay distant from his own siblings?
And who was that girl,
who shook the walls around his guarded heart?