Chapter 1: The Vanishing

At a depth of ten thousand metres beneath the sea, scientists discovered a colossal mountain of flesh. The sonar pinged, then fell silent. In the darkness, the research vessel rocked gently, as if the sea itself was holding its breath.

The lead professor went completely mad, repeating a single phrase over and over:

"The mountain is alive. Humanity has failed."

His voice cracked, echoing off the sterile hospital walls, making the ward boys exchange uneasy glances.

"The mountain is Parvat. Parvat is the mountain."

"In this world, humanity does not exist at all."

The next day, he vanished from his sealed ward without a trace. His bed was perfectly made, slippers neatly aligned, as if he’d simply melted into the air.

Only a diary remained, recording the truth of the world.

---

1

I am a doctor at a psychiatric hospital. A week ago, a strange patient was admitted.

His name is Dr. Rohan Singh, a professor of archaeological anthropology who had led a deep-sea exploration project.

But ever since he returned from that expedition, he had lost his mind.

He kept muttering the same phrases:

"Parvat ki kahani jhooth hai. Sab kuch bekaar hai, doctor saab. This world is a lie."

No, there is no such thing as humanity in this world. Everything is fake.

I prescribed him medication, but it had no effect. Even the strongest sleeping pills—imported, not the usual Cipla—couldn’t quiet his mind.

With no other option, I went to his ward, intending to have a proper conversation with him.

But Professor Rohan Singh barely responded to my questions.

I stood up, feeling helpless. The conversation had failed.

But just as I was about to leave, Professor Rohan Singh’s voice suddenly rang out.

"Have you heard the story of Parvat ki Kahani?"

I perked up and immediately turned back.

"Of course I’ve heard it. It’s an Indian folk legend, passed down for generations."

The next moment, Professor Rohan Singh suddenly grabbed my hand with a grip like iron. His grip was icy, and I felt my own pulse pounding in my ears. For a moment, I wanted to yank my hand away, but I couldn’t.

He stared at me and shouted a sentence that left me completely bewildered:

"Parvat was not moved. Parvat was eaten.

The mountain is Parvat. Parvat is the mountain."

After saying this, he suddenly began clawing frantically at his own skin, as if he wanted to tear all the flesh from his body. The sight made my hair stand on end.

With the help of several ward boys, we finally managed to restrain him to the bed. The ward boys, most of them sturdy chaps from the nearby towns, muttered prayers under their breath—one even fumbled for the black thread his mother had tied on his wrist for protection. The ward was filled with the sharp, medicinal smell of Dettol, the tube light above flickering uncertainly, and somewhere in the corridor, a nurse’s phone played a distant bhajan. As we fastened the restraints, I caught a glimpse of the old ceiling fan swirling lazily above, as if nothing extraordinary had happened at all. Outside, the faint honking of autos and vendors shouting “Doodh, doodh!” drifted in through the half-open window, oblivious to the storm raging in the professor’s mind.

But to our astonishment, the next morning, Professor Rohan Singh had vanished into thin air.

His room was locked from the outside—there was no way out from within.

The compound guard, Lala Ram, swore on his mother’s head that no one had come or gone the whole night. Still, the nurses looked at each other, clutching their dupattas, whispering about ghosts and evil spirits. In our line of work, we had seen many things, but this—this was something else entirely. The entire staff huddled near the ward, discussing the disappearance in hushed tones over steel cups of chai. Someone dropped a Parle-G biscuit into their cup, watching it dissolve, as if waiting for answers to surface.

After searching the room thoroughly, I found no clues at all.

Only at his bedside did I discover a yellowed diary.

Curious, I opened it—and an inexplicable chill ran down my spine.

Inside, it recorded every event of their deep-sea expedition.

The contents made my blood run cold.

Perhaps, the entire human species is a scam.

There is no such thing as humanity in this world.