Once the procedure was complete, Ivan stepped out of the room and walked straight toward Myra and Ishan.
Approaching them, he announced, "Mom, the test is complete. The doctor has taken the samples."
"How long until we get the report, dear?" Myra asked.
Glancing at the receipt in his hand, Ivan replied, "The lab technician said it would take five days. They also mentioned that it is mandatory to bring this receipt when collecting it."
Hearing this, Ishan merely gave a slight nod, but the panic on his face had not faded in the slightest.
Shortly after, the three of them left the hospital and got into their car. Myra started the engine, and the vehicle slowly drove out of the hospital's main gates, merging onto the paved city road.
As the car traveled along the highway heading toward their village home, a thought crossed Ivan's mind.
I haven't even seen Amardeep's face yet, he thought. Even if Amardeep isn't alive today, I can at least look at his photo. Between listening to Uncle Vikas and Uncle Arya, observing Dad's bizarre behavior, and wondering who stole Amardeep's corpse—thinking about all this made me forget this crucial detail.
Ivan realized he didn't have Twinkle's number to ask for her brother's photo.
No problem, he decided. I'll message her on Instagram and ask. Let me just reach home first.
At exactly six in the evening, they arrived home. Ivan headed straight to his room, while Myra and Ishan retreated to their master bedroom.
Upon entering their room, Ishan muttered, "I've suddenly come down with a fever."
Myra, who was in the middle of changing her clothes, paused in surprise. "What has gotten into you lately? Are you hiding something from me? Is there something you don't want to tell me?"
"I suddenly got a fever; just don't bother me," Ishan snapped.
Disliking his tone, Myra stared at him in silence for a few moments before sighing. "Fine, I'll go downstairs and prepare some warm water for you."
Meanwhile, Ivan was sitting at his desk, opening Instagram to message Twinkle. Before typing anything, he took a quick look at her profile and chat interface. Seeing no active status or green dot, he instantly realized she was offline.
Knowing she wouldn't reply right away, he went ahead and typed his first text: "Hi Twinkle," followed immediately by another: "Could you send me a photo of your brother, Amardeep? I want to see it."
Having already changed his clothes and washed his face, he set his phone on silent, left it on the table, and began studying.
Two hours later, at 9:30 PM, he picked up his phone again. Twinkle had replied and sent a photo.
It was Amardeep. And in the picture, Amardeep looked exactly like him.
Ivan had been expecting some resemblance, but he had sent the text assuming there would be a slight difference—at least a one percent variation between their faces. Yet, looking at the photo Twinkle had sent, Ivan felt as if he were staring at his own reflection.
Did someone use AI to generate the background and outfit, and send my own photo back to me?
But his heart told him no; this was not an AI-generated image. This was real.
Just then, his phone rang. It was Zoya. Ivan answered immediately.
"Did you ask Twinkle for Amardeep's photo?" Zoya asked.
"Yes."
"You've been thinking about Amardeep lately, haven't you?"
"No, that's not it," Ivan replied.
"Don't lie," Zoya said, chuckling softly. "Do you think Amardeep's soul is trapped inside you?"
"No, I don't believe in any of those supernatural things," Ivan scoffed.
"Don't lie to me. If something is bothering you, you can tell me."
"I'm not lying. Who even believes in all those things nowadays?"
"Then why did you ask Twinkle for his photo?" she pressed.
"I just wanted to see it once."
"You were thinking about him, that's why you wanted to see it," Zoya concluded.
On the other side of the house, Ishan was lying in bed, trembling from his fever.
It will take five days to get the report, he thought anxiously. How am I going to wait that long? What if I die before those five days are up?
Even though he was bundled in warm clothes, a freezing chill racked his body. The sheer terror of his own death brought tears to his eyes.
While Myra was downstairs preparing dinner, Ishan wept silently in the bedroom. What should I do? Should I stop waiting for the DNA report, listen to the Sorcerer, and sacrifice three people?
Just the thought of it made him feel sick to his stomach. Desperate, he decided to call Vikas and Arya. He dialed Vikas first.
Vikas answered in a weak, raspy voice. "I'm bedridden with a fever."
"Since when?" Ishan asked, startled.
"It hit me suddenly this afternoon."
"The exact same thing happened to me. I suddenly got a fever too," Ishan admitted.
"Don't say such terrifying things," Vikas whispered.
Stammering, Ishan said, "Maybe I should call Arya and ask him too."
When he called, it turned out that Arya was violently ill as well. Learning about each other's identical conditions made the three men panic even more.
"I feel like this is all Amardeep's doing," Vikas said, his voice trembling over the conference call. "He wants to torture us to death. Earlier, he only frightened us in our dreams, but now he has started torturing us in reality."
"My back is killing me, and my head feels like it's going to split open," Arya whimpered.
"My condition is exactly the same," Vikas agreed.
Ishan didn't say a word; he just cried silently.
"Ishan, did you get Ivan's DNA test done or not?" Arya asked.
"I went today," Ishan replied, his voice breaking. "It will take five days to get the report. I don't know if I'll even be alive for another five days."
"We need to trust the Sorcerer," Vikas declared. "We should go see him tomorrow. Will you two come?"
Both Ishan and Arya agreed.
The next morning, despite their high fevers, the three of them gathered at Vikas's house and drove to see the Sorcerer in Vikas's car.
Upon entering the dimly lit room, they found the Sorcerer sitting cross-legged on a mat. Ishan, Vikas, and Arya sat directly on the floor, facing him.
"All three of us have been sick since yesterday afternoon," Ishan pleaded, "and Amardeep's appearances in our dreams haven't stopped."
The Sorcerer stared at them with cold, unblinking eyes. "You fools need to arrange the sacrifices. Until blood is spilled, no problem will be completely solved." He reached beside him. "For your fever, I will give each of you a talisman; wear it immediately. But these talismans won't work for long. They are only a temporary cure for your physical ailments."
Leaning in, Ishan asked in a terrified whisper, "Instead of sacrificing three people, can't we just directly kill Amardeep or Ivan?"
The Sorcerer sneered. "How do you plan to kill a soul, you idiot? You cannot kill what is already dead."