When Pradip woke up, he found himself still lying inside the ruined temple.
But now, the fear inside him was gone.
Instead, a strange sense of peace filled his heart. It felt as though nothing in the world could stop him anymore. Nothing could hold him back, frighten him, or overpower him. Even the horrors of the night seemed incapable of affecting him now.
After getting up, he walked back toward the cows.
At first, as he approached them, some of the cows seemed to avoid him. They looked frightened, almost terrified of his presence.
But after a while, everything returned to normal. The cows stopped avoiding him as though nothing had happened.
By evening, Pradip brought the cattle back home. After arranging food for them in the cowshed, he was about to head toward the kitchen when he noticed her.
That girl.
The one studying in Class Ten.
Pradip had seen her every day for a long time, yet never before had he felt anything like this when looking at her.
She was the daughter of someone he called "uncle"—not a real uncle, just a neighbor from the village.
Pradip himself was no longer young. Yet he had no proper work, surviving from day to day however he could. From the very beginning, he had believed he would never marry.
But then why?
Why was he suddenly feeling this way after seeing her for the first time like this?
He could not understand it.
Trying to distract himself, Pradip quickly went inside his house.
The moment he entered, he hurriedly started cooking.
But no matter how much he tried to focus on the cooking, he could not get the girl out of his mind.
Somehow, for that night at least, Pradip managed to restrain himself.
After finishing his meal, he lay down and fell asleep.
Askra or Ajkra's pov:
In desperation, Ajakra grabbed the pendant tightly in his hand. Then, without fully understanding why, he swung it violently against the clock.
The moment the pendant struck the clock, Ajakra could suddenly see clearly again.
The woman inside it seemed to scream.
No sound came out, yet her face twisted in such unbearable agony that it was obvious she was crying out in pain.
A strange surge rose inside Ajakra's chest.
Again and again, he smashed the pendant against the clock.
Whenever any spirit tried to come near him, he swung the pendant at them as well. The pendant lashed against them like a whip. With every strike, the spirits recoiled in terror, screaming as they retreated backward.
It was as though madness had overtaken his mind.
Ajakra had begun attacking everything around him—the clock, the ghosts, anything he could see.
What he failed to notice in his frenzy was that the spirits were not merely fleeing.
They were dissolving.
Turning into dust and fading into the air.
And before vanishing completely, many of them smiled peacefully, as though saying:
"Thank you… thank you, friend. You have finally freed us."
But Ajakra noticed none of it.
His fear had now transformed into insanity.
He wanted to destroy every entity around him and drive them all out of his house.
Eventually, every spirit disappeared—
Except for the woman in the clock.
She remained there, curled up and crying.
Suddenly, Ajakra felt pity for her.
Why was she crying?
"She tried to scare me earlier. Shouldn't she be running away like the others?"
But instead of leaving, she simply stayed there, sobbing.
And somehow… it reminded him of something.
Long ago, after his uncle died, his aunt had nowhere else to go. She had been an orphan. With no place outside to stay, she would remain inside the house for days, crying endlessly.
For some reason, this scene felt strangely similar.
But why was the spirit crying?
"How am I supposed to ask her? If I speak calmly… will she answer calmly?"
Then fear rose inside him again.
"No… she's a ghost. She wanted to harm me. I can't talk to her kindly."
Ajakra shouted at her,
"Hey! You ghost! Demoness! Witch! Monster! Why are you still sitting here crying after trying to attack me? Why are you crying? Get out! Leave my house! Leave my life!"
He shouted so loudly that even he himself became frightened by the sound of his own voice.
There was something inside that voice—
Something terrifying.
Something capable of ripping the life out of anyone who heard it.
The ghostly woman trembled in fear. Curling into herself, she cried harder and spoke through her sobs:
"I cannot leave… I was never given permission to leave. I am bound to this clock… bound to whoever possesses it. Until you die, my duty will not end. I cannot become free."
Ajakra stared at her in shock.
"Bound? Why would you be bound? I've had this clock for years!"
The woman looked at him angrily and replied,
"The day you brought that clock home, I became bound to you. This clock is cursed… and I am the curse."
Then she continued softly,
"I died long ago. Many, many years ago… back when the Mughal Empire ruled Bengal. I was only a simple dancer. But they killed me. Burned me alive."
Her voice trembled.
"And even after killing me, they were not satisfied. An Englishman brought a tantric sorcerer who imprisoned my soul inside this clock. He wanted to use me to kill his wife."
"I had no choice."
"And even now, I have no choice."
"Whoever takes possession of this clock… my duty is to destroy them and their bloodline. To kill them all."
Ajakra went silent for a moment before asking,
"Isn't there any way to free you?"
The woman slowly shook her head.
"Not in this life."
"Unless… unless I can gather enough virtue. Enough goodness to wash away my sins. Only then might I finally become free."
"Virtue? How would you even gain that?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "I know nothing anymore. But the man who created me once said that someday… someone would understand my sorrow and help me. And on that day, perhaps I would find the path to freedom."
Ajakra suddenly felt immense sympathy for the spirit.
What was he supposed to do now?
Should he hate her?
Or help her?
What a strange ghost.
After thinking for a while, Ajakra finally made his decision.
"I'll help you."
The spirit looked up at him in surprise.
"How?"
"Tell me what I need to do."
The woman replied softly,
"Destroy this clock… and give me a new place to stay. A pure place. A beautiful place where I can begin again."
"Whoever carries that object must keep it close at all times. Whenever you perform good deeds, a portion of that virtue will come to me. And if I ever help you do good, part of that virtue will return to you as well."
"If enough virtue gathers over time… one day it will erase the weight of my sins."
"And then… I will finally be free."
Ajakra nodded slowly.
"I understand. Fine. We'll do that."
With those words, he picked up the clock and smashed it against the ground with all his strength.
The clock had never broken before.
But this time—
For the very first time—
It shattered completely.
Ajakra owned an old ring.
Not an ordinary ring.
The black gemstone embedded within it was something strange, something whose true identity even Ajakra himself did not know.
Using that black gem, he created a new home for the spirit.
And the moment the ghost entered the ring—
A bizarre vision suddenly flooded Ajakra's mind.
A wedding pavilion.
He himself was the groom.
And beside him sat the bride, her face hidden beneath a veil.
The entire vision lasted less than a second.
Yet it shook Ajakra so deeply that he stood there, overwhelmed and breathless.