"Uncle... You will also get money as compensation for this work," Aric promised.
"Hahahaha... You don’t have to worry. Your father is already paying for the bus fare. I am happy with that," Uncle Kurien said. Aric had respect for him, and truth be told, in this day and age, an honest person like him always brought warm feelings to Aric.
Though his behavior in his previous life didn’t an that the current person was the sa, at least he could start in good faith. The journey wasn’t that hard for Aric.
His body was getting powerful even if he didn’t need to do any work, and he was already taller than his previous height in the other life. He hadn’t realized it, but Apis and Mira did ntion that his body was getting healthier day by day.
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Aric stepped off the crowded bus at the bustling terminal, the cacophony of Mumbai’s late 2000s cityscape hitting him like a wave. The air was thick with humidity and the scent of street food—spices, frying oil, and the sharp tang of citrus from vendors selling freshly cut fruits. The terminal itself was a chaotic swirl of people, buses, and auto-rickshaws, each vying for space and attention in the confined area.
"I had forgotten how Mumbai looked. But then again, not many things changed later. Only the volu of vehicles changed," Aric mumbled as he looked around. His father, not a big fan of crowded places, called for a taxi ride, while Uncle Kurien ntioned he had his friend’s place to crash.
He moved through the throng, his suitcase bumping over the uneven pavent. The streets outside were a sensory overload: honking horns, the constant buzz of conversation, and the occasional blare of Bollywood music from a passing car. Skyscrapers and modern office buildings jostled for space with dilapidated colonial-era structures, creating a stark contrast that highlighted the city’s rapid developnt amidst its historical roots.
The taxi driver deftly maneuvered through the labyrinth of traffic. As they inched forward, Aric caught glimpses of the sea on one side and the endless sprawl of the city on the other. Finally, they arrived at the hotel.
The hotel wasn’t highly modern by any ans, but it was clean and tidy. After checking in, Aric went for a bath. Today he wouldn’t be able to go back to Echorysia or Distant Wid city.
He had already handled the matters there, so it would be fine even if he didn’t show up at these two places for a period of ti.
"Where do we need to go tomorrow? Did they give an address?" Aric’s father asked.
"Yes, the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel."
This made Aric’s father look at Aric to ask if he was joking, to which Aric forwarded him the printed email that had the invitation. Seeing the na, Aric’s father realized that maybe the deal wasn’t as casual as Aric was making it out to be.
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The next day
Aric and his father t with Uncle Kurien early in the morning at around 8:30 AM near the Gateway of India, which was very close to the hotel. Like his father, Uncle Kurien was surprised. The hotel was a very iconic hotel in all of India, and only the ultra-rich were supposed to enter through their revolving doors.
Though there were no restrictions for people entering this hotel, for people like them, they were self-conscious.
"Are you sure this is the place?" Uncle Kurien outright asked Aric. Though Uncle Kurien never said it out loud, he was expecting this was so kind of scam. Big cities like Mumbai were known to scam people, and in fact, even in the whole world, India did have a reputation for scamming people.
Even the citizens of India themselves suffered for this, and Uncle Kurien had seen too many cases such as this in his life, sitting in the court collecting dust with no resolution. This was also the reason why Uncle Kurien was here: to make sure that Aric and his family didn’t drown themselves in so kind of scam.
But the na of the hotel almost made him sure that it might be a legitimate one.
"Uncle, this was the email they sent," Aric showed him the sa email, and after reading through the fine print, they decided to just enter the hotel.
The eting was scheduled at 9:00 AM, so there wasn’t much ti left. The guard at the door ushered them in without any hint of stopping them. Once Aric walked in, his deanor changed. With his parents, he was always the shy and silent kid, but once he was in the real world, he would have to show his shark teeth.
His father saw the change in deanor but didn’t comnt on it. Aric went straight to the reception and asked.
"Hello, I am Aric More. Here for an appointnt with Mr. Eric Schmidt of Google," Aric asked. The receptionist, a pretty girl who seed to be busy with so other matters on her desk, lifted her head to look at Aric.
"You said an appointnt with Mr. Schmidt? Let check... yes... Can you please repeat your na?" the receptionist asked.
"Aric More," Aric replied.
"Can I have so ID?" the girl asked.
"Yes. Here is my bank account book." Aric gave her a small handheld book. When the girl asked for ID, Aric’s father panicked a bit as he didn’t bring any form of ID. But once Aric forwarded the bank account book, he felt dumbfounded.
He didn’t expect his son to be more responsible than himself. He felt a bit ashad and proud. Ashad because he felt he had been an irresponsible man here and proud because he saw his son growing up fast.
The receptionist led them through the corridors. Aric had co to this place once in his previous life, so he had an idea of this place in his head. Not much had changed over the years.
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