Subhadip's head throbbed. His vision blurred. He struggled to focus as he stared at the man in futuristic gear standing before him.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The man's gaze was steady. "I am Najiro Hyakuya. Your cousin. And your only relative."
Subhadip's breath hitched. He took a step back, pressing a trembling hand to his forehead. "Tell me you're lying."
Najiro didn't flinch. "I'm not. And if you're losing your memory this fast, it's normal."
Subhadip's heart pounded. "What the hell is going on?" he thought. "I'm losing the memory of my creation."
Najiro's expression darkened. "It's not your creation, Subhadip. It's the reality of the multiverse."
Something inside Subhadip twisted. The only things he could still recall were his mother's face and the words of his grandfather. Everything else was slipping away.
He clenched his fists. "Give me a pen and paper."
Najiro shook his head. "Forget about the Gilono."
Subhadip blinked. "The what?"
Najiro exhaled. "The Gilono. A device that records thoughts. But it won't help you now."
A deep unease settled over Subhadip. If no one was erasing his past, then why was it vanishing?
Najiro gestured to a sleek device. "Put your hand here."
Subhadip hesitated, then placed his palm on the surface.
A foreign language flickered to life before his eyes. The symbols twisted and shifted, refusing to make sense. "What is this saying?"
Najiro sighed. "Exactly what I feared." He locked eyes with Subhadip. "Only half of your consciousness made it here. The other half stayed behind."
Subhadip's stomach dropped. "What?!"
Najiro continued, his voice even. "Your brain had to endure the shock of traveling through the Mother Universe and the densest universal wall. That's why only half of you is present here." He paused. "Your imagination… your creation… they might have stayed behind with the other half of you."
A chill ran through Subhadip's spine.
Najiro gave him a reassuring nod. "It's rare, but nothing to worry about. Physically, you're fine. Your soul was captured and reshaped into its original form—only better."
Subhadip swallowed hard. "And the downside?"
Najiro's tone grew serious. "You might experience migraines. Severe ones. If the connection between you and the Mother Universe remains unstable, it could even be fatal."
Subhadip's breath hitched.
"You'll hear familiar voices," Najiro warned. "See blurred faces. Experience things that shouldn't exist." He reached into his coat and handed Subhadip a vial. "This will help. Take it when the headaches start."
Subhadip took the vial, his hands unsteady. He barely had time to process before Najiro motioned for him to follow.
They stepped outside.
Subhadip stopped dead in his tracks. His mind reeled. "What the hell is this? Is this even real?"
Najiro smirked. "You're going to get more shocks."
Before them stood a tower so vast, it stretched beyond his line of sight.
Subhadip gawked. "Where are we?"
Najiro's reply was calm. "Downtown Ginwola."
Subhadip's head snapped toward him. "This is a downtown?"
Najiro chuckled. "It's not just a city. It's a universe." He gestured around them. "Zolito, this realm, is home to 458 trillion beings. The dominant species? Homo sapiens."
Subhadip's fingers twitched. "This… this doesn't make sense."
Najiro studied him. "All newcomers think that cosmology applies to the multiverse. But it doesn't."
Subhadip exhaled sharply. "Then… what does?"
Najiro smirked. "Here, you can exceed the speed of light without gaining infinite mass. Your body uses photon transportation."
Subhadip rubbed his temples. The weight of everything was crashing down on him. It was too much. It felt like he was losing all hope…
But something deep inside him refused to stop listening.
"Why am I here?" he finally asked.
Najiro's expression darkened. "I don't know for sure. But it seems… you were meant to come." He paused. "And one more thing—I'll be your trainer. I'll teach you about the religion, the Congress, and the Constitution."
Subhadip narrowed his eyes. "And?"
Najiro took a deep breath. "You will become part of Korliop."
Subhadip frowned. "The what?"
"Korliop is the governing body of the entire multiverse."
Subhadip went still.
"You," Najiro continued, "will represent CirantanaAi as the Minister of Minority and Regional Affairs."
Subhadip's mind screamed at him to deny everything. "I don't even know what CirantanaAi is."
Najiro tilted his head. "And yet… it sounds familiar, doesn't it?"
Subhadip stiffened.
Najiro smiled. "That's because a seat has always been reserved for someone from the Mother Universe."
Subhadip's throat dried. "Who was the last person to hold it?"
Najiro's face grew solemn.
"The First Seal," he answered. "The forgotten god of the multiverse's religion."
Subhadip's blood ran cold.
Najiro met his gaze. "And he… was your father."
Subhadip stumbled back. "That doesn't make any sense!"
Najiro exhaled. "It was prophesied. Your arrival was calculated down to the exact moment. The god—your father—was erased from history. No one remembers him. No one even knows his name. He is only called The First Seal."
Subhadip's breathing grew uneven. "When was this prophecy made?"
Najiro's eyes glowed. "14.4568 billion times your age."
Subhadip felt the universe shift beneath his feet.
Najiro continued. "The prophecy states that when the universes in ChirantanaAi start to collide, a second seal would appear. That seal is you."
Subhadip's thoughts spiraled. "And the universes… they're really colliding?"
Najiro nodded. "Yes. The Father Universe once split into millions of new realms. But now, they are reforming. And if they do… everything will collapse."
Subhadip swallowed hard. "How long do we have?"
Najiro's voice was grim.
"Not long."
A cold realization settled over Subhadip.
He wasn't just here by accident.
He was meant to be here.
He was the Second Seal.
The only one who could stop the collapse of the multiverse.
And he had no choice but to accept it
The Ramen Shop – First Sight
As they stepped inside, the scent of rich broth and sizzling spices wrapped around them like a warm embrace. The place was unassuming—wooden interiors, soft lighting, and the quiet hum of conversation.
But none of that mattered to Subhadip.
Because the moment he saw her, everything else faded.
She stood behind the counter, casually leaning against it with arms crossed. Unlike the other beings he had encountered in this world, she wore no strange symbols or futuristic attire. Just an oversized sweater, dark jeans, and a quiet air of confidence.
Then she looked up, and her sharp, dark brown eyes met Najiro's.
A smirk. "Welcome back, Naji-san."
Najiro grinned. "Still keeping tabs on me, Himiko?"
"Of course." She glanced at Subhadip, her expression shifting slightly.
"…And who's this bozo?"
Subhadip nearly choked. "Bozo?!"
Najiro laughed. "Don't mind her, she's always like this." He gestured lazily. "This is the God's son."
Himiko blinked. Once. Twice. Then, she simply tilted her head.
"Oh."
Not shock. Not disbelief. Just… understanding.
She turned back to Najiro. "Wait. This is the cousin you always talked about?"
Najiro grinned. "Yep."
Her eyes drifted back to Subhadip, scanning him with an unreadable gaze.
Something about the way she looked at him—like she already knew something he didn't—made his stomach twist.
Trying to shake it off, he blurted, "Uh… why are you dressed like that?"
Najiro sighed. "She's from Universe Olo."
Subhadip frowned. "And that means…?"
Himiko rolled her eyes. "It means I don't care about fancy robes or divine markings. I come from the first child of the Mother and Father Universe—the bridge between both realms."
Subhadip hesitated. "So… you're…"
"Not from your universe." She tilted her head. "But also… not so different."
That didn't help at all.
Najiro leaned back against the counter. "Yeah, yeah, basically, her universe was the first to exist after the great split. Unlike yours, which was one of the last."
Subhadip's confusion deepened. "Wait—then why do I feel like I've… heard of Olo before?"
Himiko's expression flickered—just for a moment.
Najiro chuckled. "Because there's always been one constant rule in the multiverse."
He leaned in, voice dropping slightly.
"The God's son always remembers Olo."
A chill ran down Subhadip's spine.
Himiko's smirk returned. "Now you're getting it."
Subhadip swallowed. "But… why?"
Himiko exhaled, tapping her fingers against the counter. "Because, Subhadip… Olo was the first universe where everything began. And maybe, just maybe—"
Himiko sighed, crossing her arms. "I wanted a worker, not a freeloader."
Najiro smirked. "Well, he's both. Congratulations."
Subhadip, still overwhelmed, glanced between them. "Wait… hold on. First, what mission? And second—I have to work here?!"
Najiro ignored him and turned back to Himiko. "So? How was Uni Re-238?"
Himiko clicked her tongue. "Tch. A pain in the ass." She leaned against the counter, grabbing a bottle of water. "I managed to extend the period before the universe collides, but it's only temporary."
Najiro raised an eyebrow. "How long?"
"About four more cycles before it reaches critical mass."
Subhadip, feeling increasingly lost, groaned. "What the hell does that mean?"
Himiko gave him a side glance. "It means that a whole-ass universe is still gonna collapse. I just bought it some time."
He blinked. "Wait… you can stop universe collisions?"
Himiko shrugged. "Not stop, just… delay."
Najiro waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah, she's good at that kind of thing. But let's focus on something more important."
He turned to Himiko, grinning.
"You're letting Subhadip stay at your place."
Himiko froze mid-sip, her expression darkening. "…Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Najiro stretched lazily. "You've got tons of extra rooms. Just cut the rent from his paycheck."
"Absolutely not."
Najiro sighed dramatically. "Oh, come on. Didn't you say you needed a worker?"
Himiko narrowed her eyes. "I said I needed a worker, not a burden."
"Same thing," Najiro said with a grin.
Himiko exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. "You're impossible." She turned to Subhadip. "Can you even cook?"
Subhadip smirked. "I'm better than you."
Himiko leaned against the counter, thinking. "…Alright. You prove it—make me something right now. If it's good, you stay."
Subhadip cracked his knuckles. "Deal."
Najiro smirked. "I don't believe him, but let's see."
As they walked into the supermarket, Subhadip was still basking in his victory over Himiko's taste buds. But his confidence wavered as he followed Najiro and Himiko through the aisles, watching them pick out ingredients.
Najiro grabbed a bag of rice, some meat, and a few spices, then walked straight to the checkout. Instead of handing over money or scanning anything, he simply said a number to the cashier.
"4.75 kreds."
A small beep followed, and the total automatically deducted from his balance.
Subhadip blinked. "…What the hell just happened?"
Himiko smirked. "Welcome to the future, chef."
Najiro chuckled. "You seriously thought we still use cash? Here, everything is linked to our neural ID. No wallets, no cards—just say the amount, and it's paid."
Subhadip looked at the cashier, then at the screen showing the deduction. He rubbed his temples. "I swear, every damn thing here is breaking my brain."
Himiko patted his shoulder. "Better get used to it. You live here now."
After they left the supermarket, Subhadip frowned at the ingredients in the bag. "You didn't buy everything," he said. "I need more stuff."
Himiko raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"Potatoes," he said. "Big ones. And saffron, rose water, kewra water—this is Kolkata biryani, not just any biryani."
Najiro groaned. "More shopping?"
But seeing the determination in Subhadip's eyes, he sighed. "Fine. Let's get the rest."
---
The Cooking Sequence
Back at Himiko's place, the kitchen filled with the rich, warm aroma of spices as Subhadip moved like a man on a mission.
He washed the basmati rice, letting it soak while he prepared the spiced water with bay leaves, cinnamon, and cardamom.
The mutton marinated in yogurt, mustard oil, and an explosion of fragrant spices.
The potatoes, golden and crisp, fried in mustard oil with a hint of turmeric.
As the rice cooked, he gently layered everything—mutton, saffron-infused milk, fragrant ghee, and the signature Kolkata touch: perfectly tender potatoes.
When he finally lifted the lid, a cloud of rich, buttery, spiced steam escaped, wrapping around them like a warm embrace.
As they sat down to eat, the aroma of the biryani filled the room. Himiko hesitantly took a bite, and her eyes widened immediately.
"What the hell… this is incredible," she muttered, almost in disbelief.
Najiro smirked and leaned back. "Told you he wasn't joking."
Himiko shot him a glare. "When did you say so?"
Najiro chuckled, taking another spoonful. "Does it matter? The food speaks for itself."
She rolled her eyes but took another bite, savoring the rich, fragrant flavors. "Fine. You're staying."