Darkness.

A realm untouched by time, where even light dared not wander.

At the heart of the Seventh Court of the Seven Deadly Sins stood the highest throne in Hell, carved from ancient black stone and surrounded by an endless sea of shadows..

A lone figure sat upon the throne.

His face remained hidden beneath the veil of darkness. Only the faint curve of his lips was visible, forming a quiet smile that carried neither warmth nor mercy. A few strands of long silver hair slipped over his shoulder, catching the dim glow of the infernal flames.

He rested his chin against his hand, his fingers lightly brushing his lips.

Then, with a voice as calm as the silence around him, he whispered,

“At last… it’s time for us to meet.”

The words echoed across the empty hall.

In the distance, iron chains groaned.

For a brief moment, the cries of imprisoned souls rose from the depths of Hell before fading back into silence.

…

Earth — Kolkata, India.

It was nearly half past ten at night.

The corridors of one of India’s leading hospitals were alive with quiet urgency. Doctors moved quickly between departments, nurses exchanged anxious glances, and the sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air.

A mobile phone suddenly broke the silence.

Pradumna Chatterjee glanced at the screen.

Dr. Sen.

He answered at once.

“Hello, Dr. Sen.”

There was no greeting from the other side.

“Mr. Chatterjee… Titir’s condition has deteriorated. Her vitals are falling rapidly. Please come to the ICU immediately.”

For a single heartbeat, the world around him seemed to stop.

His grip tightened around the phone.

Without another word, he turned and ran.

At that moment, nothing else mattered.

Only his daughter.

Titir.

Pradumna pushed the ICU doors open, breathing heavily.

His eyes searched the room until they landed on the small figure lying motionless on the hospital bed.

"Titir!"

He rushed to her side before turning to the doctors.

"What happened?" His voice trembled. "Is she... is she alright?"

Dr. Sen lowered his gaze, unable to answer.

Before the silence could grow any heavier, Dr. William stepped forward.

"Mr. Chatterjee..." he began softly. "Please... take your daughter home."

Pradumna stared at him, unable to understand.

"We've done everything modern medicine can offer. Every treatment, every procedure... we've tried them all."

Dr. William paused, taking a slow breath.

"I'm sorry."

"There is nothing more we can do."

The words echoed inside the room.

For a long moment, Pradumna simply stood there.

As if his mind refused to accept what he had just heard.

Dr. William continued quietly,

"You're only exhausting yourself... and spending your fortune on a battle we can no longer win."

His voice was gentle, but every word felt like another knife.

"It's time... to let her go."

Silence.

Pradumna slowly turned toward the hospital bed.

Titir lay there peacefully, her tiny body almost disappearing beneath the white blanket. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor was the only sign that she was still alive.

She looked so small.

Too small to be fighting death.

His legs gave way beneath him.

He collapsed onto his knees beside the bed.

His trembling hand reached for hers, gently wrapping around her tiny fingers.

They were cold.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

"...Money?" he whispered, letting out a broken laugh.

"If money is the problem..."

His voice cracked.

"I'll give everything I own."

His shoulders shook as he lowered his head.

"I'll sell every hospital..."

"Every company..."

"Every single thing I have..."

He tightened his grip on Titir's hand.

"If that's still not enough..."

He closed his eyes.

"...Then take my life."

"But please..."

His voice broke into a whisper.

"Not hers."

"She's only four..."

"What has she done to deserve this?"

The room fell completely silent.

No doctor spoke.

No nurse moved.

Because there was nothing anyone could say to a father who was begging fate to take him instead of his daughter.