That evening, the group met at Shukla Master’s house. It was a small, cluttered flat that smelled of incense and old books. They sat on the floor—the CEO (Kabir), the Influencer (Aarav), the Superwoman (Meera). "It’s spreading," Aarav said, showing them his phone. "People are deleting their 'aesthetic' archives. They are posting pictures of their grandmothers’ wrinkled hands. They are posting failures. They are posting the truth." Shukla Master nodded. "A lie can run a sprint," he said. "But truth runs the marathon. You cannot suppress the root forever. Eventually, the concrete cracks." He looked at them. "You thought you were changing yourselves," he said. "But you were actually just cleaning the mirror. The dust of 'modernity'—the hurry, the greed, the transactional love—it was just dust. The reflection underneath was always there. It was waiting."