Chapter 1: Return to the City of Dust and Thunder

Ten years after my death, the system brought me back to life.

The sticky Mumbai air clung to my skin, the city’s endless hum of autos, street hawkers shouting, and the far-off clang of temple bells both achingly familiar and newly strange. I blinked up at the ceiling fan, its lazy rotation slicing through the heat. From somewhere nearby, a pressure cooker whistled—someone’s dinner almost ready. But me, Ananya? I’d only returned because the system demanded it. I had unfinished business.

It wants me to save the villain who has already fallen into darkness.

But I’ve lost all my memories.

So when I first saw the villain from afar, before I could even get close to him, his men chased me away.

My hands scrabbled at the concrete, dust and grit biting into my palms. The crowd’s eyes slid away—no one wanted trouble with a Malhotra. Thrown to the ground, shame burning hotter than pain, I suddenly saw several lines of bullet comments flash before my eyes.

[Here we go again. I’ve lost count of how many people have come to “save” the villain.]

[Over the years, the system has arranged countless stand-in strategists to keep the villain stable, terrified he’ll destroy the world.]

[Some look like the villain’s late wife, some have her personality, and some even arrive with her memories...]

[But every single one of them has failed.]

[How many days will this one, so utterly average, last?]