Brute Coyle was asleep, wrapped in his blanket. Although the orphanage's bed wasn't comfortable for any average person, he was used to it.

There were more than twenty rooms which contained more than twenty beds. None of the beds were much long, neither much wide. 

Brute pushed his head out of the blanket. The first ray of sun forced him to close his eyes again. He turned away from the window and opened his eyes. As soon as he opened them, he noticed a silhouette heading straight towards him. He wanted to scream, but it was too late. The pillow thrown by Krystene had already pushed his head back on the bed.

Krystene chuckled for moment. "Sorry, didn't expect it to hurt!"

"Why did you do that?" Brute whined and pulled the pillow away from his face.

"So you forgot?" Krystene narrowed her eyes.

"Forgot what?" Brute was still half asleep.

"We are on a date today!" Krystene exclaimed in joy. "You promised me! I gave you money to buy a new phone, and you promised to go on a date with me in return!"

Now Brute was fully awake. His greatest nightmare was going to play itself. His eyes widened in horror. He whirled his head around the room, thinking of any denying response.

The room was empty. No one was in site, except Krystene. Brute had to admit that it was his fault that he had made a deal with Krystene. However, he had no option as it was necessary to inform someone about the pattern of deaths of the Sanskrit scholars who learned Sanskrit from the same teacher. He could do this by a phone call to... However, he didn't know how to use a cellular phone. Only Krystene could help him in that.

"What about our classes?" Brute gave a half inched smile, hoping that this silly plan would work.

Krystene eyed him. "It's Sunday, moron!"

Now no choice was left with Brute. He had to go on a date with Krystene. He was just going to get off from the bed when one of his classmates entered the room.

The boy who entered wasn't much tall. He was wearing glasses and had very, very short hair. "Brute, the headmaster's calling you. It seems like someone has come to adopt you!"

Like most of the orphans, Brute also wanted to be adopted. Most of the people adopt children under five, in this orphanage at least . Why did anybody decide to adopt Brute who is sixteen year old? Brute was confused. He didn't even know who wanted to adopt him.

"We don't have time for pranks", Krystene snapped.

"It's not a prank," the boy said, "why don't you go and check it yourself?"

Then he turned back to Brute, and said with a smile, "You're really lucky, Brute."

They all headed towards the wide doorway of the Headmaster's Office, which was opened wide at the moment. Brute was still in a nightshirt and a pyjama. His hair was uncombed and his eyes were still half sleepy. This way, he looked more handsome to Krystene.

Inside the office, they saw the eighty nine year old headmaster sitting on his chair in front of a man in his mid–twenties on another chair. The headmaster had white fuzzy hair and beard. From a distance, his face looked much like a sheep's. The young man sitting in front of him was the same who was accidently pushed by Brute the day before.

They both were smiling and were unaware of the teens standing at the widely opened door of the room. The headmaster exclaimed, "All the legal paper–works are done, and now he's your son!"

Soon the Headmaster realised that three teenagers were standing at the door. "Oh, Mr Coyle, congratulations! You're adopted! Meet your new father, Mr Rana!"

Brute knew the man. He had seen him the previous night.

Krystene realised that it was true. Brute was adopted. At the moment, she was very happy and sad too. She was sad because she could no more be on a date with Brute. She had dreamt of which since years. But finally when the time came, he got adopted. On other hand, she was happy too as Brute was being adopted. He was going to start a new life. A different life. A very happy one.

"Good morning, Brute", Agent Dhawan said, smiling.

Brute smiled. Suddenly he remembered something. He whirled back to Krystene. He couldn't figure out whether she was smiling or frowning or both. "I'm sorry, we can't go on a date anymore."

"It's okay," Krystene forced a smile. "By the way, congratulations. You're going to start a new life."

Brute hoped the same.

Brute came out with the secret agent after greeting everyone goodbye and receiving enough chocolates from the school staff. He stood frozen when he saw a Benz parked at the parking area. His new father was walking towards the car. One thing was clear by now. His new father was rich, very, very rich, maybe not Ambani rich, but still.

Brute walked towards the Benz with a cardboard box full of gifts by his old pals. He was in a grey T–shirt and blue denims. He didn't even look back at the orphanage which had been his home since last fifteen years.

He sat in the car and turned towards his new father beside him on the driver's seat. Although the detective was aware that Brute had entered the car, he had no expression on his face and was looking straight towards the wind–shield.

Brute waited for a moment and then decided to start the conversation himself. He outstretched his hand. "I'm Brute Coyle."

"Yeah, I know that," the detective still didn't give any expression, neither did he turn towards Brute. "I read your name on the files I signed."

'What kind of father talks like that?' Brute thought.

"Should I call you dad or you wouldn't mind if I call you by your name," Brute said, "it is Rana, right?"

"You need not to call me dad," the young detective still didn't turn. "And Rana is not my real name. My true identity is classified."

Brute was confused. He crossed his eye–brows.

Suddenly, Crunchy jumped out of the back seat on the detective's shoulder.

"So this cat's my mum?" Brute chuckled.

"Look, boy," the detective finally turned towards him, "I've no interest in being a virgin daddy. So as soon as my work is done, I would throw you back to the orphanage."

Brute widened his eyes. He felt hurt, after all he was quite excited for his new life to begin, but now hearing its deadline even before it started, he felt himself losing his temper. 

"Who are you?" he snapped.

"As I said," agent Dhawan sassed, "my name is classified."

Brute tried to open the door, but it was locked. He turned back to the detective. "How much money do you want?"

Dhawan eyed him like he was crazy. "C'mon, this car costs more than you have in your account, that is if you have one." He said, "I'm driving Mercedes and you think that I adopted you for money?"

"What do you want then?" Brute crossed his eye–brows, now really confused.

Dhawan took out a folded piece of paper from his blazer and handed it to Brute. "I'll tell you my true identity only if you tell me more about this."

Brute unfolded the piece of paper and widened his eyes in shock. He was surprised and wondering how the man got this?

"Where did you find this?" he asked.

"Yesterday, when you accidently collided with me, a pencil–box fell off your hand or pocket. I found this inside that." Dhawan explained.

Brute was still muddle–headed.

"Can you explain me more about this list?" the young detective demanded.

"Yeah," Brute turned his gaze back at the list. "All the people mentioned here are popular Sanskrit scholars. They all are taught by the same teacher. And these people are being murdered one-by-one. Five of them are already dead–"

"Six," agent Dhawan corrected. "You need to update your list. Mrs Annabelle Broom was murdered yesterday evening."

Brute crossed his eye-brows. "So....."

"I'm detective Ritesh Dhawan and I need you for a bloody well reason", Dhawan told him.