The morning sunlight reflected off the glass façade of Saksham Industries like a thousand secrets hiding in plain sight. Inside, the rhythm of the office came alive once more, a symphony of keystrokes, hurried footsteps, and elevator dings. To most, it was just another day. But for Dushiant Rajput, cloaked still in the identity of Parth Bhardwaj, it was another step deeper into the labyrinth.
Dushiant arrived at 8:55 AM, five minutes before his official reporting time. He timed it precisely, enough to be seen as punctual but not suspiciously early. He carried no trace of his past self—no arrogance, no confidence that stood too tall. He was Parth: modest, quiet, eager to prove.
Ravi Tripathi was already at his desk, a steaming cup of tea balanced precariously near his keyboard. His eyes drifted up, narrowed.
"Parth. You're early."
"Just want to make a good impression, sir," Dushiant said, slipping into his role with ease.
Ravi snorted, taking a loud sip. "Good impression doesn't mean brown-nosing. Learn that."
Dushiant offered a polite nod and went to his designated seat, a cramped desk right outside Ravi's glass cabin. It gave him perfect proximity. He booted his system, his fingers dancing subtly over the keyboard as he typed a series of background pings—nothing intrusive yet. He was laying the ground.
Within the hour, Ravi called him inside.
"Go to the basement storage and bring up the last six months of HR intake files. The ones in the red-labeled boxes. And don't mix them up. If I see one wrong paper, you're done."
Dushiant didn't argue. The basement was dusty and poorly lit, stacked with years of forgotten records. As he sifted through the chaos, he wasn't really looking for files. He was mentally mapping exits, blind spots, camera positions. Everything mattered.
He returned with the files after forty minutes, careful to scuff his shirt sleeve a little, add a sweat mark on his collar. Details. Always the details.
Ravi barely looked up. "Dump them there. Coffee. One sugar. Now."
Dushiant nodded and turned. As he walked toward the pantry, he noticed two female interns walking past hurriedly, one adjusting her scarf, visibly uncomfortable. The other muttered something under her breath:
"Creep never quits."
That was the third such instance he'd noticed. Yesterday, a girl named Preeti from PR had left Ravi's cabin in tears. The day before that, there were whispers in the restroom.
He was starting to build a timeline. A profile.
Back at his desk, he discreetly opened a Notepad file and began logging:
Subject: Ravi Tripathi
9:15 AM: Leers at intern Priya, makes inappropriate comment about her kurti.
10:20 AM: Asks me to fetch coffee during file retrieval.
11:00 AM: Calls HR assistant into cabin for 15 minutes. She leaves visibly upset.
Ravi wasn't just annoying. He was a ticking bomb, and Dushiant needed to defuse him without setting off alarms.
During lunch break, he didn't go to the cafeteria. Instead, he lingered in the lounge near the elevators. Ranjan Malhotra walked past, his phone pressed to his ear.
"Yes, yes, the board meeting's next week. No, don't worry about Parth. He's a junior. Won't matter."
Dushiant turned slightly, just enough to be in his peripheral vision.
"Oh hey! You're Parth, right?" Ranjan said, sliding his phone into his pocket.
"Yes, sir."
"Settling in okay?"
"Trying to, sir. Just learning the ropes."
Ranjan smiled thinly, more politeness than warmth. "Well, keep your head down and do your work. You'll be fine."
"Thank you, sir. I hope to learn a lot from you."
The bait was subtle. Ranjan responded with a polite nod and walked away, but Dushiant caught the brief glance backward. Good. Interest had been sparked.
Back at his desk, he began the slow process of infiltration. He noticed that Ravi often left his system unlocked when going for smoke breaks. Twice already, he'd stepped out with a crude joke and a swagger, leaving the door ajar.
Today, Dushiant waited.
At 3:42 PM, Ravi stood.
"Need some fresh air. Don't touch anything, Bhardwaj."
"Of course not, sir."
The moment the door clicked, Dushiant was inside. He had 5 minutes, maybe less. His fingers moved fast.
System login: Unlocked.
Directory search: Ranjan Files. Password-protected. Noted.
Alternate route: Temp folders, recent file access logs.
Success.
He found a trail: .docx files with tags like "Board_Mtg_Discussions," "Security Protocol Update," and most interestingly, "SI_InternalAudit_Ranjan."
That file was encrypted. Not standard office encryption. Something custom.
Who encrypts an internal audit?
He copied the file names to a drive disguised as a pen. Not the files themselves. That would be premature.
Then, he exited, locking everything exactly as it was.
When Ravi returned, reeking of cigarettes, he grunted. "Still here? Thought you'd run home crying by now."
"Not until the day's work is done, sir."
Ravi scoffed and sat.
As evening approached, Dushiant reflected on what he'd gathered:
All of Ranjan's sensitive files were routed through Ravi's system.
Ravi had access far beyond what an HR manager should.
Someone had deliberately funneled information through the weakest link.
He needed a plan. Ravi wasn't just a pervert. He was a pawn. But pawns, when played right, could topple kings.
That night, back at his apartment, Dushiant opened his encrypted laptop and started decrypting the sample he'd copied. It was gibberish at first—until he noticed the pattern: double-layered ROT13 cipher, combined with hexadecimal hashes. Sloppy, but clever enough to fool standard filters.
He cracked part of a memo:
"...must ensure Ranjan doesn't suspect the redirection. Ravi's access must appear incidental. Proceed with gradual feed of reports until April."
The memo was unsigned.
But it confirmed his theory. Ravi was being used.
And Dushiant now had a lever.
The next day would be interesting.
To be continued...