Upar wali floor se achanak ek loud thud aayi. Phir ek aur. Stairwell ka light ek second ko poori tarah gaya, aur jab wapas aaya, to corridor ke end par emergency red glow jal rahi thi. Kisi ne building ke ek floor ka main supply cut kar diya tha.
Sab ek saath silent ho gaye.
Imran ne pehli baar clearly uneasy tone mein kaha, “Abhi.”
Arjun ne seedha staircase ki landing ki taraf dekha. Door ke neeche se ek patli si shadow cross hui, phir gayab. Kisi ne upar rooms ke locks check karne shuru kar diye the—bahut dheere, bahut confident.
Kabir ne bina awaaz ke apne bag ka strap tight kiya. “Search ho rahi hai.”
Rohan ne whisper kiya, “Andar se bhi.”.
Mess courtyard mein shaam ka dinner rush apne peak par tha. Steel trays ki khanak, dal ke steam, cutting chai ki smell, aur benches par baithe students ka woh fake-busy look—jaise sabko apni roti se zyada apne kaan ki fikr ho. Room 69 ke chaaron boys ek corner ki taraf the, magar aaj corner bhi safe nahi lag raha tha.
Arjun ne ek baar crowd scan kiya, phir seedha apne tray ko dekhta reh gaya, jaise usmein koi clue likha ho. Kabir chair ke pichhe pe pair tikaye baitha tha, aankhon mein woh restless energy jo hamesha tab aati thi jab kuch galat ho aur usse pehle hi pakadna pade. Imran chup tha, spoon ko idly move kar raha tha, par uski nazar baar-baar gate ke taraf ja rahi thi. Rohan, jo usually mess ke noise se bhi equation nikaal leta tha, aaj clearly off tha.
Tabhi Pooja aayi, apne tray ke saath bilkul apni usual steady pace mein. Na koi drama, na show. Bas wahi calm presence jo room ke graphs aur deadlines ke beech bhi line straight kar de.
“Tumhara face aaj aur bhi kharab lag raha hai,” usne Rohan ko dekhte hi seedha bola, tone light thi, “matlab whatever this is, it’s bigger than your bad face.”
Rohan ne ek weak sa smile diya. “Thanks. Moral support ka yehi syllabus tha?”
“Extra credit nahi milega,” Pooja ne kaha, aur uske tray ke paas khadi ho gayi. “Par seriously, kuch chal raha hai na?”
Rohan ne jawab dene se pehle Arjun ki taraf dekha, phir Kabir ki taraf. “Haan. Aur jo bhi hai, clean nahi hai.”
Pooja ka expression ek second ko serious hua, phir usne apna usual composed tone wapas pakad liya. “Toh chill mat karo. Tum logon ka problem yehi hota hai—pehle suspense, phir panic.”
Usne Rohan ke shoulder par ek quick, reassuring pat lagayi, jaise keh rahi ho ki bas, theek hai, sambhal lo. “Aur haan, ek aur baat. Tum log room 69 mein rehte ho na? Naam hi suspicious hai. Har koi sochta hoga wahan kuch secret lab hoga.”
Kabir ne us taraf dekha aur hansi ke bahut paas jaake ruk gaya. “Secret lab hota toh Arjun ko pehle hi entry mil jaati.”
Arjun ne aankh uthayi. “Very funny.”
Pooja ne unki baat ka adha bhi nahi liya, bas tray uthayi. “Main ja rahi hoon. Tum log apne mystery ka size samajh lo. Mess mein aise faces leke mat ghumo, log notice karte hain.”
Woh mud kar do kadam hi gayi thi ki Kabir ka posture ekdum rigid ho gaya. Courtyard ke doosre side, hostel side entrance ke paas, ek plain shirt wala aadmi khada tha. Student jaisa bilkul nahi. Na tray, na badge, na casual hurry. Bas camera ya phone ko thoda neeche rakhe, entrance ki taraf angle set karke kuch photograph le raha tha.
Kabir ne dheere se chair ke edge ko pakda. “Arjun,” usne low voice mein bola, “udhar dekh.”
Arjun ne bina head turn kiye peripheral se dekha. “Maan liya.”
Imran ne spoon stop kar diya. Rohan ka face aur tight ho gaya..
Old admin block ke peeche wali passage mein hawa bhi jaise dheere chal rahi thi. Tube light half-jali hui thi, uski roshni kabhi aati, kabhi ghut jaati, aur peeling paint walls par aise utar rahi thi jaise kisi ne campus ki purani skin khurach di ho. Door number ke paas jo board kabhi white tha, ab grey aur cracked lag raha tha. Uske neeche ek gate tha jo officially sealed wing ka part tha. Aur phir bhi, uska latch thoda sa khula hua tha.
Kabir ne apni torch neeche ki aur ek step ruk gaya. “Yeh door khula kaise hai?”
Rohan ne apna phone nikaal ke photo zoom ki. “Lock ke screws fresh hain. Matlab khola gaya hai, todha nahi gaya.” Uski awaaz mein nerdy certainty thi, par uske words mein tension chipki hui thi. “Aur dekh, edge par scratch marks. Inside se kuch kiya gaya hoga.”
Arjun ne corridor ka end dekha, phir back ki taraf. “Toh seedha mat bolo ki yeh bas coincidence hai. Campus kisi movie ka set nahi hai.” Usne half-smile diya, par us smile ke neeche alertness zyada thi. “Chalo, andar dekhte hain.”
Imran sabse pehle aage badha. Woh kam bolta tha, par jab move karta tha toh bina noise ke. Usne wall ko check kiya, phir zor se saans li. “Yahan fresh paint ki smell nahi hai,” woh bola. “Sirf purani dampness. Yeh passage recently use hua hai.”
Andar ki side se ek halki si scrape sunai di. Sab freeze ho gaye. Kabir ne torch ek narrow beam mein ghumaayi. Wall par ek naya mark tha—jaise kisi ne nail ya key se ek line kheench di ho. Lekin us line ke neeche, plaster ke faint layer mein kuch hidden sa tha. Rohan ne ungli se dust hataaya, aur uske haath mein ek thin envelope ka corner aa gaya.
“Mil gaya,” Rohan whispered.
Envelope plain tha. No name. No stamp. Sirf ek folded sheet andar thi. Arjun ne usse carefully khola. Paper par copied attendance sheet thi, neat handwriting mein multiple dates aur room numbers. Kuch names repeatedly mark kiye gaye the, aur unke saamne remarks jaise “shifted,” “withdrawn,” “administrative adjustment.” Ek line par Kunal ka naam tha, aur uske saamne ek date, jo uss mahine ke baad ki thi jab woh campus se gayab hua tha.
Kabir ki jawline hard ho gayi. “Forced transfers,” he said, almost to himself. “Quiet removals. Yeh sirf missing person ka case nahi hai.”
Rohan ne sheet ko aur close se dekha. “Pattern hai. Same floor, same week, same office sign-off. Yeh sab random nahi ho sakta.” Usne ek aur line par finger rakha. “Aur yeh dekho—attendance sheet copied hai, original file se. Matlab kisi ne records ko touch kiya hai. Officially.”
Imran ne corridor ke dusre end ki taraf ek quick glance maara. “Office logon ne.”
Arjun ne envelope fold karke pocket mein rakha. “Kunal ko yahin tak trace kar sakte hain. Lekin ab is paper ko leke bahar nikalna hoga. Abhi.”
Tabhi, passage ke ek end se dull footsteps aaye. Ek, do, phir ruk gaye. Doosri taraf bhi same sound—slow, measured, jaise koi jaan-bujhkar un tak aa raha ho..