The Nagpur Cotton Mandi was a beast that never slept. It was a chaotic ocean of white gold—mountains of raw cotton piled on bullock carts, shouting brokers (dalals), and farmers with sun-baked skin waiting for a fair price.
Rudra stepped out of the Ambassador, the heat hitting him like a physical blow. He held the briefcase containing the ₹50,000 cash he had withdrawn from the bank an hour ago.
He walked straight to the auction pit. He intended to place a bulk order for 200 bales immediately.
"120 rupees per quintal!" a broker shouted. "125!"
Rudra raised his hand. "140 rupees. I'll take the entire lot."
The chaos froze. Heads turned. The broker, a man with betel-stained teeth, looked at Rudra. He recognized the Pratap face.
"Pratap Seth's son?" the broker squinted.
Before he could answer, a heavy hand landed on the broker's shoulder.
"The lot is sold, Somnath," a voice dripped with arrogance. "To the Deshmukh Ginning Factory."
Rudra turned. Standing there was Suresh Deshmukh, the nephew of the local political rival. He was in his late twenties, wearing a gold chain over a flashy silk shirt, chewing paan.
"Rudra," Suresh smirked. "Playing shopkeeper today? Go back to college. This is a man's game."
"The auction isn't closed, Suresh," Rudra said calmly. "I bid 140."
Suresh laughed, and the brokers around him chuckled nervously. The Deshmukhs controlled the Mandi committee. "The price for you is 200. Take it or leave it. Or better yet... go tell your father to sell his mill to us. We might give him a good price for the scrap metal."
Rudra looked around. The brokers wouldn't meet his eyes. The farmers looked helpless. The cartel was absolute. If Rudra bought at 200, his profit margin from the future crisis would be halved. If he fought them here publicly, they would just block his trucks.
Rudra smiled. It was a cold, polite smile.
"200 is too rich for my blood, Suresh. Enjoy your cotton."
Rudra turned and walked away.
"Run along, little tiger!" Suresh shouted after him, laughing.
Rudra got back into the car. His face was stone.
"Home, Malik?" Balwant asked, gripping the steering wheel angrily. "Let me go back and break his jaw."
"No," Rudra said. "Violence is free, Balwant. We need something expensive. Drive to Mahal. We need to find two people."
[System Active.][Search Query: High-Competence Agents (Unemployed/Disgruntled) in Nagpur.][Filter: Accounting & Security.][Cost: ₹50.]
[Results Found.]
Gokul Das (62): Former Head Accountant. Fired by Deshmukh for refusing to cook books. Integrity: High. Status: Selling vegetables.Raghu 'The Rock' (24): Former Mill Worker/Wrestler. Blacklisted for assaulting a supervisor who abused a female worker. Status: Working at a tea stall. Debt: ₹2,000.
Rudra looked at the holographic markers on his map. Perfect.
Half an hour later, in a narrow lane in the old city, Rudra stood before a vegetable cart. An old man with thick glasses was meticulously arranging onions.
"Gokul Kaka," Rudra said.
The old man looked up, squinting. Recognition dawned, followed by shame. He tried to hide his dirty hands. "Chhote Malik... I... I am just..."
"Leave the onions," Rudra said, kicking the wheel of the cart gently. "I need you to count money again."
"I... no one will hire me. The Deshmukhs blacklisted me."
"I am not hiring you to keep ledgers," Rudra said, leaning in. "I am hiring you to run a shadow operation. I have fifty thousand rupees. I need you to split it into twenty parts. Find twenty farmers who hate the Deshmukhs. Buy their cotton directly from their fields in cash. Use fake names. Store it in the abandoned godown near the railway tracks."
Gokul's eyes widened. "Proxy buying? But if they catch us..."
"They won't look at you, Kaka. They think you are broken. Are you?"
Gokul straightened his spine. The glare on his glasses hid his eyes, but his voice was steady. "I am not broken, Malik. I am just waiting."
"Good. Be at the Wada in one hour."
Next, they drove to a roadside tea stall on the highway. A massive young man was washing glasses, his muscles straining against a torn shirt. He looked like a bull forced to pull a cart.
"Raghu?" Rudra called out.
The giant turned. He had a scar on his cheek. "Who asks?"
"Someone who knows you owe the moneylender two thousand rupees and they are threatening to take your mother's jewelry," Rudra said flatly.
Raghu stepped forward, his fists clenching. Balwant stepped out of the car, hand on his hip, but Rudra raised a hand to stop him.
"I'm not here to collect," Rudra said. He pulled out a bundle of notes. "Two thousand. Clear your debt."
Raghu stared at the money. "What do I have to do? Kill someone?"
"No. I need you to protect an old man," Rudra said. "You will accompany Gokul Das. You will ensure that when he buys cotton in the villages, no Deshmukh goon touches him or the money. If anyone asks, you are independent traders from Madhya Pradesh."
Raghu looked at the money, then at Rudra. He snatched the notes.
"If anyone touches the old man," Raghu grunted, "I will break them."
Two Weeks Later.
The Mandi was buzzing with confusion.
Suresh Deshmukh stood on a crate, screaming at a broker. "What do you mean 'shortage'? Where is the supply from Wardha? Where is the supply from Saoner?"
"I don't know, Seth!" the broker sweated. "The farmers say they already sold it! Some traders from MP came with cash. They bought everything at the farm gate!"
"Who? Who is buying?" Suresh roared.
"No names. Just cash."
In the distance, sitting in his car, Rudra watched through the window. He checked the System interface.
[Mission Progress: The Cotton King]
Inventory Secured: 400 Bales (Purchased at ₹130/quintal via proxies).Market Status: Artificial Shortage Created.Deshmukh Panic Level: High.
Rudra turned to Gokul Das, who was sitting in the front seat, looking cleaner and happier than he had in years.
"Good work, Kaka," Rudra said. "Now, send a rumor into the market."
"What rumor, Malik?"
"Tell them," Rudra smiled, "That the traders from MP are actually agents for a big textile mill in Gujarat. Tell them the Gujarat mills are predicting a drought."
"That will drive the price up even more," Gokul noted. "Deshmukh will have to pay double to get whatever is left."
"Exactly," Rudra said. "Let him bleed his cash reserves buying the scraps. When the real crisis hits next month, he will be empty, and we will be kings."
Rudra tapped the dashboard.
"Let's go. I need to buy a suit. I have a feeling we'll be meeting some bankers soon."