"Yeah… The sun can’t be biased. Never." Her voice held certainty.

  She took a deep breath before continuing, "This situation can be reversed, but only with carefully devised plans for the people. We need to build schools, colleges, universities, and hospitals in the Third Zone itself. Appoint carefully selected doctors and teachers so that they, too, can enjoy the knowledge and opportunities that First Zoners have. And Soori made a valid point—competition between these two groups is unfair. Introducing reservations and incentives might help."

  Sanjana tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Let me explain it this way—say there are ten government seats available. If we set a 10% reservation for Third Zoners, at least one seat will be allocated to a deserving candidate from that group, even if their score is lower than the top-ranking First Zoners. This ensures they get opportunities despite systemic disadvantages."

  Adhitya frowned slightly, tossing the mango seed into the stream. "I understand incentives. But is it fair to deny a more qualified candidate just because of where they were born?"

  Sanjana exhaled, her voice calm but firm. "Fairness isn’t just about individual merit. It’s about correcting imbalances that have existed for generations. Third Zoners never had access to proper education, resources, or guidance like First Zoners did. If we only look at test scores, we ignore the decades of disadvantages that held them back. Reservation isn’t about giving handouts—it’s about giving a fair starting point."

  Adhitya tapped the hilt of his knife against his palm, deep in thought. "Mmm… Introducing something like this would definitely help them get into schools and colleges faster. Constructing new institutions will take time, but this seems like a quick remedy."

  His gaze drifted toward the distant mountains, where the mist curled around the peaks. "Soori’s words hold truth, but his voice won’t travel beyond this territory. This, however… this could give them empowerment. Their thoughts, skills, and knowledge could contribute to the nation's growth. It really seems like a good idea… A bridge between the First and Third Zones."

  Sanjana suddenly noticed him looking at her intently. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

  A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You’re brilliant."

  Heat crept up her neck, and she waved a dismissive hand. ("I only explained an age-old practice of my own time and history, but now, in a certain someone's eyes, I’ve become a real Ambedkar. What do I do with this guilt of plagiarism?")

  She let out a nervous chuckle. "Hehehe. These aren’t my original thoughts, you see. They belong to a great, great, great ancestor of ours."

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  Adhitya tilted his head. "Is that so? I’ve never heard of it."

  Sanjana shrugged, thinking to herself, ("Naturally, you wouldn’t.")

  "Where did you learn all this?" he pressed.

  Sanjana stiffened. "Uh… um…" She cleared her throat and forced a grin. "Well, my brother travels a lot. He once went to the Lunar Kingdom and studied their ancient poetry manuscripts. He taught me everything he learned!"

  She let out an awkward laugh.

  At that very moment, miles away, in the Second Zone, Ishaan sneezed—completely unaware of the storm his own sister had just unleashed.

  Adhitya, intrigued, leaned forward slightly. "Ohhh… But there’s a problem with this idea, don’t you think?"

  Sanjana raised an eyebrow. "What problem?"

  "The First Zoners will strongly oppose such schemes. It will be their turn to claim that the sun is biased."

  Sanjana exhaled, tilting her face toward the sky. "That’s inevitable. But look at it this way—right now, it's nighttime. Can we call it unfair? The sun hasn’t disappeared; it has simply moved to the opposite side, showering its warmth elsewhere. We’re just waiting for our turn. A true decision-maker—a king—can never be completely kind. Any decision made for one group will inevitably hurt another."

  She turned to face Adhitya, her eyes gleaming. "That’s why we represent Lord Surya as ‘Arai Subhar’—half good. Because only someone who is half-good to both sides can be a true leader. Being fair isn’t about pleasing everyone; it’s about balancing the scales. And Reservation is not a permanent concept it's a temporary social levelling tool."

  Adhitya’s fingers tightened around the knife’s hilt, his expression shifting as if something inside him had just snapped into place.

  "Being half-good to both…" he murmured. His eyes darkened, lost in deep contemplation.

  Sanjana frowned. "Hey… What’s up with that look? It’s kind of scary."

  Adhitya let out a chuckle, shaking his head. "Haha, don’t mind me. Carry on."

  Sanjana hesitated before speaking again. "First of all, the Zones must be abolished. People should be free to live wherever they choose. Let them mingle. Let them learn about each other. Ignorance and curiosity are equally dangerous diseases—only knowledge can cure them. If First Zoners understand the struggles of Third Zoners, and Third Zoners overcome their fear of First Zoners, trust will naturally follow. And once that happens… I believe they will embrace each other."

  Adhitya studied her closely. "Do you really think that will happen?"

  Sanjana sighed, her thoughts drifting to the endless conflicts that still existed in her own time. Even now, people fought over caste, status, and power. "I don’t know," she admitted softly. "Normally, people do… if we eliminate the shadows that cloud their hearts."

  Adhitya’s gaze turned distant. "Shadows… they are always variables."

  His mind was elsewhere now, lost in a maze of thoughts.

  Sanjana narrowed her eyes. "What now?"

  Adhitya exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nothing. It’s getting late. You should go inside and rest."

  She nodded, standing up and dusting off her robes. But a strange unease lingered in her chest. ("Why do I feel like… if I go to sleep now, I won’t see him again?")

  She turned back abruptly. "Hey! Be careful on your way."

  Adhitya chuckled. "Is it that obvious?"

  Sanjana shrugged, offering him a small smile. "Goodbye, then."

  As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.

  "Sanjana."

  She glanced over her shoulder. "What?"

  His eyes held an unreadable intensity. "I didn’t tell you much about myself yet. But... Try not to forget me."

  Sanjana let out a soft laugh. "Forget you? A man as mysterious as you? Not a chance. You'll be a legend in the bedtime stories I tell my children."

  Adhitya stared at her for a long moment. Then, out of nowhere, he smacked his forehead with his palm.

  She blinked. "What’s that for?"

  His voice was quieter this time. "I’m sorry, but… have you... Perhaps... already found your sun?"

  Sanjana smiled mischievously, stepping backward. "Aren’t you in a hurry? Go on. If we meet again… I’ll tell you."

  Adhitya exhaled, shaking his head with a small smirk. "I’ll wait, then. See you."

  Sanjana nodded. "Yeah. See you."

  As she walked away, she had a strange feeling—like she had just witnessed the beginning of something f

  ar greater than herself.

  And behind her, Adhitya watched until she disappeared into the night.