The Climb and Ananya

I wake up in a mediocre hotel, but for me, it might as well be a roadside shack.

The walls are plain, painted in a dull cream color that has long since faded. The furniture is functional, nothing more—simple wooden chairs, a small table, and a bed that is far too stiff for my liking. The room smells clean, but not in the way I prefer. There’s no hint of expensive perfumes or the subtle aroma of fresh linen. Instead, it’s just… sanitized.

This place is too low class for me.

For me, a five-star hotel is the bare minimum. I’m used to marble floors, elegant chandeliers, and rooms so luxurious they feel like miniature palaces. The kind of places where the moment you walk in, you’re greeted with a personalized cocktail and a warm smile from the manager who knows your full name and preferences.

But now?

Now I’m stuck in this.

And worse—I had to share a room with her.

The ignorant, irritating, completely uncultured Vrishti.

The night was a disaster.

I turned off the lights at 10 PM sharp, as I always do. Sleep is important for maintaining beauty and health, after all.

She?

She did not care.

She tossed and turned. She sighed. She mumbled in her sleep. At one point, she even had the audacity to kick off the blanket and let in the cold air.

By the time morning came, I had barely slept.

I am in a foul mood, and my mood gets even worse the moment I look at her face. HER face. It irritates me to my bones. I can't get myself to believe that someone as ignorant as her exists in this world.

I try not to let my thoughts travel from my mind to my tongue. It will cause unnecessary trouble.

Anyway, let's keep the ignorant fool aside and focus on what we are supposed to do now, climb this damn mountain, by foot at that.

Standing at the base of the Mahendra Giri, I realize something.

I hate mountains.

I have never been the type to enjoy rugged landscapes. My idea of a trip involves ocean-view suites, rooftop pools, and private chauffeurs, not dirt-covered trails, uneven rocks, and the threat of wild animals.

The mountain itself is… imposing.

The lower slopes are covered in dense forests—lush green trees stretching endlessly in every direction. The air smells earthy, mixed with the scent of damp wood and wildflowers. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the faint sound of running water, likely a small stream trickling down from the higher peaks.

Despite my distaste for the journey ahead, I have to admit—it’s beautiful in a way.

The sky is a perfect shade of blue, stretching far and wide, untainted by pollution. The air is crisp, much cleaner than the artificial, air-conditioned environments I’m used to. The wind carries a refreshing chill, making the morning sun feel pleasant rather than overbearing.

But none of that changes the fact that I don’t want to be here.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Grandpa, of course, looks thrilled. Oh I have started calling this man Grandpa. Why? Because this stupid man is not at all willing to tell me his name. I asked the other girl that if she really knew his name and she told me after ranting for hours that she gave him the name OM by herself.

How stupid she has to be to follow someone who is not even willing to reveal his name to her? That girl really is stupid. I know I am the same too. I don't know anything about him either,but one thing I do know that this man is something out of the world. His intellect is beyond anything I have ever seen among humans. He is on another plane and even though he goes around joking and all, my instinct tell me that he is a real deal. She probably feels the same way.

He’s already checking our climbing gear, making sure everything is secure. Ropes, harnesses, gloves, carabiners. He has it all. Where did he even get this stuff? And more importantly, why does he think this is normal?

Vrishti, on the other hand, looks just as unimpressed as I feel.

"This is ridiculous," she mutters, glaring at the mountain like it personally offended her. "Who wakes up and decides to climb a mountain?"

"Exactly," I say under my breath.

OM laughs, clearly enjoying our suffering. "This will be good for you two. Fresh air, a bit of adventure—"

"No internet," I interrupt. "No luxury. No actual reason to do this."

Vrishti scoffs. "No food.."

OM just grins, like this is all a joke. "You two should get along, you know."

Neither of us answer. Just a murderous glare from my side to her.

As we climb, my mind drifts back to the life I had before.

I was born into wealth.

My father was a buisness man and my mother was also the heir to a big bank.They had everything—money, status, power. And as their only child, I was the center of their world.

I never had to want for anything.

If I saw something I liked, it became mine.

If I wanted to go somewhere, I had a chauffeur ready to drive me there.

If I craved something, it was prepared by the best chefs before I even had to ask.

My life was perfect.

Until I saw them. A famous dance group from foreign land. People called them 'Idol' I didn't know the meaning of the world but it fascinated my anyway.

It was at a high-profile charity event, and on stage, a group of dancers performed in front of an awestruck audience. Their movements were graceful, fluid yet sharp, captivating every single eye in the room.

I had never seen anything so beautiful.

And I wanted it.

That night, I told my parents, "I want to be a dancer."

They indulged me, as they always did. They found the best trainers, enrolled me in elite programs, made sure I had the finest instructors. But unlike my past fleeting interests, dance wasn’t something I could just buy mastery over.

I had to work.

And I did.

I trained relentlessly, pushed myself beyond exhaustion. I sacrificed sleep, comfort, and even friendships just to become perfect at it.

By the time I was fifteen, I had already debuted in a prestigious dance reality show.

I made it to the finals.

And I won.

After that, my life changed forever.

I signed a contract with a top talent agency, and a dance group was built around me. My face was everywhere—on billboards, magazine covers, television. People screamed my name in concerts, cameras flashed wherever I went.

I was a celebrity at twenty.

It was everything I had dreamed of.

Until the jealousy started.

People who once smiled at me started whispering behind my back.

Teammates who danced beside me began hating me.

At first, it was subtle—missed rehearsals, cold shoulders, quiet insults.

Then, it became worse.

They sabotaged my performances.

They spread rumors, whispering lies to the press, trying to tarnish my image.

And when that didn’t work—

They ruined me.

One day, after a performance, I was resting in my dressing room when I heard chaos outside.

I thought it was another prank.

I tried to leave. The door was locked. I called for the service of the building but my call went unanswered.

I went near the window. People on road seemed to be creating a ruckus when I noticed a strange smell.

"Smoke" I realised. Everything came together in an instant. The building was on fire and I was trapped in it. Panick took over in an instant, I spammed calls on all the numbers possible, running around the trying to find a way to escape.

I screamed, I banged on the door and I kept on banging till my hand started bleeding. I cried for help, I shouted for aid but no one came to save me.

The fire eventually reached the room. I could hear the sirens of fire fighter outside but I didn't give me any hope. It was too late, too late for me. I could only sit in the burning room and cry, waiting for the unavoidable death baring it's fangs on me. I was helpless.

The fire spread fast. The sprinklers were useless. The door wouldn’t budge.

The smoke choked me. The heat burned my skin. My lungs screamed.

"I am going to die."

I curled up on the floor, tears streaming down my face. It hurt. It hurt so much.

"I don’t want to die."

"I still have have a lot to do! I have not accomplished anything yet!! My life can't be this short!! It cannot end like this" These voices echoed in my voice but I knew it was all hopeless.

I had worked so hard.

For what?

For this?

I remember the pain, the fear, the rage. These emotions filled my heart but were was all shadowed by one emotion, Despair.

The flames charred my body,the smoke filled my lungs, death approaching me, I collapsed to the ground.

"You poor thing", voice fell into my ear, when I was half dead. "You must be in a lot of pain. Should I relieve you?" It asked me. My mind was clouded. I couldn't think clearly. I didn't know who was speaking and where from. I just wanted to live. I just wanted to be saved. I begged for my life, in my own thoughts.

"Ok then. I shall save you but know this, 'YOU' are already dead. The next time you wake up, your life is not going to be the same, and if you try to chase your previous life, I shall personally burn you to ashes. The new 'You' belong to me. I shall mark you as mine."

My scarred back is a testament to the torment I suffered, and the descision I made following the incident, which have now brought me here.