After watching the Smile Man video, Aarav knew this was no longer a game—it was a performance with real blood, real victims, and a final act that had already played out in secret.
He gathered his team in a secure, dimly lit room and confiscated their phones. "Nobody breathes a word of this," he said. "If that video leaks, the country erupts. Vraj, trace the lighting and shadows—that setup's theatrical. The rest of you, turn this city inside out."
As Aarav played the disturbing footage, tension crackled in the air. Officers shifted uncomfortably.
On-screen, Smile Man had a famous actress tied to a chair, crying and confused. The camera slowly zoomed in on her tear-streaked face as Smile Man whispered, "Final Act begins soon."
Aarav sprang into action. "Team 1—barricade the city. Team 2—scan every CCTV feed. Team 3—track the actress's last known movements."
Vraj's eyes narrowed. "Those lights... they're stage lights. And look at that background—it's not a house, it's a set."
Just then, Manohar from Team 3 called in. "Sir, we found something. Two months ago, a Range Rover picked her up for a screen test. No return logs. We're tracing it now."
Vraj cross-referenced active sets. "Only four are in use. But there used to be five. One—'Deadly Smile'—burned down ten years ago."
Aarav's stomach twisted. "I was there that night... when it burned. Assemble everyone. We're heading there."
The team arrived at the outskirts of Raigarh, where the ruins of the Deadly Smile set lay under a thick blanket of fog. Everyone paused before crossing the threshold.
The silence was wrong.
The trees didn't rustle. The wind didn't move. And the signboard reading "THE DEADLY SMILE" stood gleaming—freshly painted. A grotesque welcome.
Vraj's scanner beeped faintly. "Residual heat… this place burned recently?" he muttered, hands trembling.
Aarav stepped forward, jaw clenched. The sharp sting of kerosene and burnt hair hit him—unmistakable. The same stench from the night Priya died.
He turned to his team. "Fan out. Left corridor—Rohit and Neha. Vraj, with me. The rest, sweep the backlot. No gunfire unless I say. This place isn't just ash—it's bait. Eyes open."
They stepped into the ruins, the floor creaking underfoot. Ash swirled in the beam of Aarav's flashlight.
A distorted voice echoed from hidden speakers. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Today, the guilty perform. Her final act... begins now."
The team moved deeper into the set, flashlights cutting through thick smoke.
Aarav's light caught something. He froze.
A figure stood at center stage—a grotesque mannequin in a clown costume. Its smile wasn't painted. It was carved into flesh. Bloodied. Melted. The skin blistered like wax.
Everyone gasped. Then, another form—almost missed—lay beneath the clown.
A second body, nearly reduced to ash, its hand still intact… clutching a severed head. The head rested unnaturally on the hand as if placed deliberately. Its glassy eyes stared directly at an old CRT television in the corner.
The television buzzed and flickered to life.
Smile Man's face appeared—paint cracked, smile wide.
He spoke softly, almost like a lullaby:
"Brother... did you miss me? Or just miss saving them? Tonight, the curtains burn... and so do your chances. This isn't just a stage. It's a memory set on fire."
He leaned closer to the screen.
"She is watching you, officer. Smile... because she is guilty. Hahaha haaaaa... you must enjoy the post-credit scene of this act, Aarav."