Eleven years ago
The early morning sunshine lit up the garden after a night of rain, making the grass glitter with droplets. Birds chirped as they emerged from the trees, flying into the warmth. Rabbits hopped out to nibble on the fresh grass, and flowers blossomed gaily, welcoming the bright start of a lively new day.
It was a beautiful garden beside the Royal Victorian Design Mansion, which stood tall and glorious over the landscape. Roses, tulips, and lush yellow sunflowers adorned the grounds, and at the garden's center, a grand fountain shimmered in the sunlight. Near the fountain sat a twelve-year-old boy. His skin, hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes were white as a cloud. Dressed in a silver robe, he seemed to glow majestically under the sun, looking almost ethereal.
A maid, about twice his age, sat near his feet, pressing them while he held grains in his palm. A calm smile graced his face—a smile one might find on the face of a god, but never on that of a twelve-year-old. Rabbits gathered around him, while birds perched on his shoulders and hands, some pecking at the grains in his palm.
"You are free to do anything in this world," he said in an omniscient voice. "Love anyone, enjoy anything, take any life—anything that gives you joy, fulfilment"
"But wouldn't it be wrong," the maid asked, her head still bowed, "to do what gives you happiness if it hurts someone else?"
He smiled. "Right, wrong, morals, ethics—these are terms created to keep humans from living with free will. Get rid of these illusions, and you will be truly the master of your will. You will be truly free."
He took a deep breath, looked up, and sang in a tone of serene wisdom:
"A Hindu killing a Muslim because they burned a temple thinks he is right.
A Muslim killing a Hindu because they burned a mosque thinks he is right.
In the end, who do you think is right?"
He turned to her. She had no answer.
"The one who wins," he said with a smile. "If the Muslims win, they will decide what is right and wrong. Everything—rape, murder, torture—will be acceptable if done to the Hindus. And if the Hindus win, the same will be true the other way around."
He leaned back. "Right and wrong change with the man in power. Don't be deluded by them. Be free of them. Only then will you truly live against the will of the powerful. Don't let them cage you in this illusion."
"But," she whispered, looking down, "what about Karma?"
"Karma was created by the powerless," he replied. "A rich, powerful man lives trampling over the poor. They are born, live, and die with a smile. The poor can't fight back. They suffer and suffer, chained by fear and morals. So they created Karma—to convince themselves that the rich and powerful are suffering too, just in a way they cannot see. It's a lie they tell themselves for comfort."
He picked a white flower and twirled it between his fingers.
"The powerful rule the weak, do as they please, and no one can stop them. The weak are caged by fear, strength, and morals, while the powerful live as they will. So the only way to be free and happy is to drop your morals and do what you want—what fulfills you."
He paused, then said, "A rich man rapes a girl. Her father, bound by morals, goes to court." He plucked a petal from the flower. "Hearings go on for days, weeks, months, years. In the end, the rapist walks free." He let the petal fall. "Who wins?"
He placed the flower in her hair, his fingers caressing her cheek. She looked up at him, wide-eyed.
"If her father had been immoral," he continued, "he would have killed the rich man. Who wins then?"
A long silence followed. A shift in her expression. The words settled over her. Something snapped inside her. Something changed. He knew it.
A tear formed in her eye as she drowned in a new realization.
He looked at her, gently stroking her head. "The people of this mansion took your freedom away," he said, sorrow darkening his eyes. "They enslaved you over your late father's debt, and they live happily. Where is their Karma? And what was your fault? Which sin's Karma are you facing?"
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her lips quivered. She lowered her head to his feet and sobbed, clutching the fabric of his robe.
He stroked her hair, a smile on his face—but not the serene smile he had worn until then. It was a smile of superiority. Of pleasure.
A sinister smile.
Like he looked at a miserable insect at his feet.
She looked up at him, her teary red eyes meeting his, and in an instant, his face returned to its kind, serene expression.
"The only sensible way of living in this world," she murmured, as if hypnotized, "is to live as you will and do what makes you happy."
"If your happiness comes from hurting someone," he said, his voice soft but firm, "then do it. There is no 'What gives me the right to?' There is no 'It's immoral.' There are no rights and wrongs."
He leaned forward, lifting her chin, his eyes locking onto hers with quiet assurance.
"The fact that you can take their life, and they cannot stop you, and that doing so will make you happy—" he smiled, "—is reason enough."
He looked at the mansion. Her eyes followed.
A fierce, burning rage ignited inside her. Her nerves tensed. Her fists clenched. Her eyes turned bloody.
"The strong rule the weak because they have no chains of morals," he said. "To fight back, the weak must drop them too."
He gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Drop your chains. Your fears. Your morals. Your hesitations. Do what gives you happiness."
He leaned in, his voice soft but commanding.
"Go, my love."
"Thank you, Kal, my God, thank you," she said, trembling with rage, looking at the mansion. But there was a strange, deep religious devotion in her eyes when she looked at him—the twelve-year-old boy.
She got up and stormed into the house while he sat there, watching her go. His warmth faded, and a devilish mark appeared on his face. A cold, satisfied look gleamed in his eyes. He felt a thrill, watching her dance at the tip of his fingers—a sense of superiority, of godliness.
"Why control them with strength, fear, or morals?" he said, petting the bird that was eating the last of the grains from his palm.
Suddenly, he clenched his fist, trapping the bird before it could react. The rabbits and the other birds rushed away in terror as the captured bird screeched in pain, shaking furiously in his tight grip. A sadistic pleasure spread across his face as he took out a blade from his robe and placed it on the bird's wing, near the shoulder.
"When you can just" - slit - "control their will itself."
The bird screeched louder in agony. He cut just deep enough not to sever the wing entirely—if he did, it would kill the bird too quickly.
When he let go, the bird instinctively tried to fly away, flapping its wings—only for the wounded limb to tear off completely. It dangled hideously as the bird crashed to the ground. Blood splattered everywhere. The creature violently writhed in pain for a whole torturous minute before succumbing to death.
And he watched it all, cold yet thrilled, with maniacal eyes and a satisfied smirk, which widened when a loud scream came out from the mansion.
He looked up at the sky, exhilarated.
*
News reports later that day
MillionaireCoupleBrutallyMurderedbyMaidinShockingIncident
In a horrifying turn of events, millionaire businessman Herman Oberoy and his wife, Seema Oberoy, were brutally murdered in their mansion early this morning. According to police reports, the attack took place while the couple was having their morning tea when their maid, Anita Jal, suddenly entered with a kitchen knife and fatally stabbed them.
Authorities arrived at the scene shortly after the crime and took Anita Jal into custody. She is currently being interrogated as investigators try to determine the motive behind the attack.
The sole survivor of the incident is the couple's famous 12-year-old adopted son, Kal Oberoy, widely known as "God's Child" due to his distinctive white hair and eyelashes. Police sources say the boy is severely traumatized and has been unable to speak since the murders. Witnesses report that he has not stopped crying since the attack.
Officials have yet to confirm further details as the investigation continues. More updates to follow as the story develops....