Chapter 4: PayTM Ka-Ching and New Beginnings

Flashing lights, hazy noise—I head straight into a bar in Bandra.

The Bandra nightlife is alive—music blaring, neon lights, bartenders juggling bottles. I slip inside, the smell of old rum and sweat hitting me like a wave. It’s the kind of place where secrets drown in whisky. A group of college kids in the corner are singing old Arijit Singh songs off-key, their laughter echoing through the smoky air.

The bartender, a South Indian uncle with a thick moustache, raises an eyebrow but serves without question. Three shots later, my brain is floating. Suddenly, the world feels full of possibilities.

I summon the system: "I’m not pacifying, not fawning, I’m not going back."

I grin, raise my glass, and toast the system in my head. "No more naatak. No more buttering up. Let Priya and her pehla pyaar sort out their own drama."

Just as I’m about to order another round, the system sputters—screen freezes, then a lonely question mark pops up. I laugh so hard the bartender gives me side-eye.

I open my PayTM app—so many zeros in my balance, the alcohol makes me even more excited. The PayTM ka-ching sound is so loud, even the bartender raises an eyebrow.

I almost want to screenshot it and send it to my old WhatsApp group: "Dekho, paisa!" My hands shake with excitement. Is this what winning the lottery feels like?

Even in my wildest dreams, I never saw this many zeros. I laugh again, loud enough that a few aunties at the next table stare.

I raise my glass to my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I flex, just a little, admiring my biceps—thank you, new body. Life has never looked so good.

The system is silent: [Wait, why did you suddenly change your mind? What about the male lead coming after you with a hockey stick?]

The system tries to scare me, but I shrug. Hockey stick, cricket bat—bring it on. I survived Mumbai locals at rush hour; what’s one angry NRI?

I order another Old Monk and laugh openly: "Stop talking nonsense. Aren’t you going to shock me? Hurry up!"

The bartender is amused by my solo toast. He gives me a small bowl of peanuts—on the house. I grin, feeling invincible.

System: [……]

The system gives up, at least for now.

But this time, I wasn’t going to beg. Not for her, not for anyone.