“Wow,” came another voice from the doorway, amused and dangerously cheerful, “my dear little sleepy-head brother skipped the usual ‘five minutes’ negotiation and went straight to asking for an hour. Impressive progress.” Ashish stepped inside, wearing an expression that strongly suggested mischief disguised as brotherly concern.

  Eklavya, demonstrating remarkable strategic intelligence, chose to ignore him entirely and continued pretending the world no longer existed. Ashish turned to Aashi with reassuring confidence. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll wake him up. You go bring breakfast.” Aashi sighed softly, though her gaze drifted toward Ashish’s hands, which were suspiciously hidden behind his back — positioned exactly like someone concealing either a gift or a crime.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What are you hiding from me?” she asked. “Nothing, Mom,” Ashish replied far too quickly.

  “Oh, really? I don’t think so,” she said with a knowing smile, one that suggested she had raised him long enough to recognise trouble before it introduced itself. Ashish coughed lightly. “Ah… just something that will help Eklavya wake up. Nothing more.”

  Aashi nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced but choosing peace over investigation, and stepped out of the room—leaving behind one sleeping cultivator and one older brother who looked entirely too pleased with whatever plan he had prepared.

  After Aashi stepped out of the room, Ashish turned his attention toward his sleeping brother with the quiet patience of someone about to commit an act he would later defend as “necessary.” He walked closer to the bed and carefully slid the blanket down just enough to expose Eklavya’s shoulders.

  Eklavya was determined to preserve sleep at all costs and had turned his face toward the wall. His body angled away from the sunlight creeping into the room as though he were actively negotiating with morning itself. From Ashish’s perspective, this was perfection—opportunity delivered by fate.

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  Slowly, with exaggerated stealth that would have impressed even trained assassins, he brought forward the glass he had been hiding behind his back and placed it gently on the bedside table. Inside it clinked several innocent-looking ice cubes. They were unaware that they were about to become instruments of brotherly betrayal.

  Ashish scooped up a handful, stretched forward carefully, and slipped them down the collar of Eklavya’s clothes in one swift, merciless motion before jumping back like a strategist retreating after launching an attack.

  The reaction was immediate. Eklavya jolted upright as if struck by lightning. “Ahhh—! AHhhh! Who did this?!” he shouted, springing off the bed and stumbling onto the floor. He started twisting and hopping around the room while desperately trying to fish the freezing invaders out of his back.

  His movements resembled an extremely confused martial arts routine invented under emotional distress. Meanwhile, Ashish stood nearby, watching the performance with undisguised delight, laughter escaping freely as Eklavya spun in circles, attempting rescue operations behind his own shoulders.

  After several frantic seconds—and one near collision with a chair—Eklavya finally managed to shake the ice cubes free, but not before his clothes were soaked, sending relentless shivers racing down his spine.

  “You… you… Why would you do this?!” Eklavya demanded, glaring at his brother, though his face struggled to maintain genuine anger; irritation was present, certainly, but outrage required effort he clearly hadn’t fully woken up enough to supply. Ashish only grinned wider. “Hehe. Because it was fun.”

  “Haa—!” Eklavya began, ready to protest further, but froze as another voice entered the room. “I told him to do that. Any problem with it?” Aashi said calmly as she walked in carrying a tray of breakfast. Her tone carried mock seriousness, yet the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

  The sight of her trying and failing not to laugh made Eklavya realise the conspiracy ran deeper than expected. Standing there, damp, shivering, and betrayed by both family and temperature, he could only stare in disbelief, silently concluding that surviving ancient inheritances was apparently easier than surviving mornings in his own house.