---
**Thud**. With a loud sound, Shyama fell to the ground.
"Mister, unlock the door," Ram who is watching all this said in a commanding tone, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him from the side road. His voice carried no room for argument.
**Click**. The car door unlocked.
---
"You bastards!" Shyama screamed, only to have the pale man grab her hair again, lifting her face to his level.
"Hey boss, what do you think? Should we have some fun with her before we hand her over?" the pale man asked, his gaze brimming with lust as it lingered on Shyama.
*These idiots always think with their lower bodies. Sigh.* The dark-skinned man thought inwardly.
"Do as you wish, but remember—don't damage her too much. If the price drops because of your stupidity, you'll pay for it," the dark-skinned man warned, his deathly gaze piercing through them.
"Y-yes, boss," both men stammered, trembling in fear.
With that, the dark-skinned man turned to leave, but just as he took his first step—
"Haahhhh!" The pale man let out a piercing scream as Shyama bit his hand.
"You...!" the other man shouted, trying to punch Shyama, but she swiftly dodged and kicked him between his legs.
**Crack**. With a sickening sound, the man crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.
"This is my chance. I have to..." Before Shyama could finish her thought—
**Thud**. A sharp slap landed on her face, throwing her off balance. She fell to the ground, blood trickling from her mouth.
"Sigh, I hate selling damaged goods, but it is what it is," the dark-skinned man said with a tired tone.
"Hey, you two, pick her up," he ordered indifferently.
"Y-yes, boss," they replied, hurriedly obeying.
As they were about to leave, with the pale man holding Shyama limply under his arm—her body too weak to resist after the slap—a loud voice boomed behind them.
"Hey, stop!"
The group turned to see a boy, around 14 or 15 years old, standing confidently with his hands in his pockets.
"How much does she owe you? Speak," Ram demanded, his unwavering gaze locked on the dark-skinned man.
"This isn't your business, kid. Go play somewhere else," the man who had just recovered from his earlier injury growled irritably.
"Just tell me how much," Ram repeated in the same unyielding tone, his expression unchanged.
"Sigh..." The dark-skinned man exhaled before speaking. "Kids these days always want to play hero. Fine, 5 lakhs (500,000 rupees). Pay it, or stop wasting our time."
**Clink**. Ram tossed a ring onto the ground in front of him.
"Take this and let her go. It has a real diamond, worth more than 7 lakhs," Ram said, stepping closer.
*This kid must be rich,* the thought crossed everyone's minds, including Shyama's. Even in her dazed state, she was stunned by this sudden act of generosity—or perhaps extravagance.
"And what if we don't? What if we take the ring, the girl, and maybe even you?" the dark-skinned man sneered, lunging at Ram with a knife.
"Ali," Ram said, his voice calm but firm.
**Bang**. The knife broked and clattered to the ground.
Everyone, including Shyama, froze in shock.
"Wh-what?" The dark-skinned man stammered, retreating a few steps.
In next A tall figure, nearly 210 cm, emerged from the dark black car. Dressed in a sharp black suit with a crimson tie, pale skin, and dark sunglasses, he carried a Desert eagle handgun in his gloved hand.
"Ali, take care of them," Ram instructed, walking toward the pale man still holding Shyama.
Realizing the situation was spiraling out of control, the dark-skinned man exchanged glances with his comrades, preparing to flee. But—
**Bang! Bang! Bang!** Three gunshots rang out, and all three men collapsed to the ground, blood pooling from their calves as they groaned in agony.
Ram reached the pale man, delivering a swift kick to his head. The man crumpled, dropping Shyama, who Ram scooped into his arms.
As he began walking back toward his car, he paused. "Give them ten slaps each," he ordered without looking back.
"As you wish, young master," Ali replied, heading toward the groaning men.
**Slap. Slap. Thud. Slap.** The sharp sound of blows echoed as Ram carried Shyama in a princess carry to the car. The driver opened the door, and Ram stepped inside with her still in his arms.
---
### Shyama's POV
Shyama, still in a daze from the whirlwind of events, tried to process what had just happened.
*What… what is going on? Who is this boy? What does he want? Why is he carrying me like this?*
*Calm down, Shyama. Calm down. Take a deep breath and think clearly.*
She inhaled deeply, turning her gaze to the boy holding her. His face, calm and composed, exuded a strange warmth.
*What does he want from me? Why did he save me? Ugh, that slap hurt so much—I still can't move properly.*
Her eyes gazing his features. Looking her gazing at him that intentionally Ram understood she is trying to size him to which He just smiled at her, looking at the small bright smile her heart skipped a beat and started to beat even harder.
*Oh shit… Why is he so cute?!* Shyama shouted inwardly.
*Calm down, Shyama! Don't think nonsense!* She scolded herself, trying to assist the situation she is in.
*He's clearly rich. But why would someone like him go out of his way for me?*
Her thoughts wandered. *This world revolves around interests. If someone helps you, it's because you're of use to them. But what could I possibly offer him?*
As the thought crossed her mind, a sudden realization made her face flush red. Her head started to spin.
*Oh aa No, it can't be… or could it?*as she thought her imagination started to run wild all the scenes, events she saw in movies and steamy things she readed in novels started to flash in her head, thinking all kinds of fantasies Her cheeks burned, and her head felt like it was steaming.
---
**To be continued…**