His body moved not as a potter’s, but as a warrior’s. He ducked, twisted, and caught Devaraj’s arm. For a moment, the crowd saw two men—not in suits and shirts, but in armor and silk. Harsha and Ranadev, locked in a 400-year-old duel.

Karthik dismissed it as stress, until the day a traveling antique show arrived. Among the relics was a rusted anklet. The moment his fingers brushed it, the world flipped. He wasn’t Karthik anymore. He was Harsha .

Devaraj smiled coldly. “Guards.”

On the night of the engagement, Karthik broke free. He stood before the glittering crowd, covered in clay and blood. “Ask him about the cliff,” he shouted. “Ask him about the knife he hid in his turban!”

“Who are you really?” she whispered.