Rishi plopped onto the sagging sofa in his tiny apartment, cassette in hand, and grinned like a man about to meet his childhood hero. The Flower in the Serpent King's Garden. He hadn't watched it in over a decade, and now—now he was ready to relive the glory.

He pressed play. The familiar opening scene flickered on the screen of his old VHS player. The colors were brighter than he remembered, the music more melodious, and the serpent king... oh, the serpent king...

And then.

Everything went blurry.

The sofa, the cassette player, his legs—they all melted into a swirl of color and motion. Rishi flailed like a fish in a blender. "What the—!" He tried to grab the coffee table but it was gone. He felt himself falling, spinning, tumbling through an endless kaleidoscope of light.

His stomach did that thing. You know, the oh-no-I'm-going-to-puke thing.

Then his eyes snapped open. He blinked. And blinked again.

Nothing looked right. Not the sofa. Not the walls. Not the familiar clutter of his apartment. Instead... thorns. Everywhere. Huge, shiny, spiky, metallic-looking thorns stretching up, out, and sideways like some deranged sculptor had gone insane with pruning shears.

He staggered back, tripping over... nothing? He scrambled to stand, tripping again, arms flailing wildly. "Wha—what the hell is this?!"

He spun in a circle, eyes wide, jaw slack. "Is this... real? Am I dreaming? Did I hit my head? Is this some kind of lucid nightmare?!"

He flailed his hands, poked the air, backed up, and then—almost grazed a thorn with his elbow. He jumped back with a yelp. "OHHHH—!"

His mind raced. Okay, okay. Think. Think. Deep breaths. Rational brain. Wait. That's a DVD... cassette... VHS... the old movie!

His heart skipped a beat. The pieces slammed together. "No... no no no... it can't be... but... oh gods... maybe... maybe I actually... transmigrated into the movie?"

Rishi froze mid-step, staring at the thorns as if they might answer him. "No. That's insane. Totally insane. I am an adult. I have responsibilities! I can't just... jump into a cursed animated garden!"

But then... the only logical explanation—terrifying as it was—took root. Yes. That has to be it. I must have transmigrated into the movie world. I am... inside the thorn garden of the serpent king. Holy... hell.

He staggered backward, clutching his head. "I... I can't believe this. I cannot believe this."

And then, his panic shifted to horror as he finally examined the thorns properly.

These were no ordinary thorns. They gleamed menacingly in the sunlight, jagged and sharp. Even the smallest touch could poison him. His imagination ran wild. One scratch, and I'll swell up for months. Then... slowly... the flesh rots... burns like a three-degree flame... and then... it falls off... slowly... painfully... my fingers... my toes... my—everything!

He staggered backward, waving his arms like a madman, yelling at the air. "Dear heavens! Anyone! Gods! Universe! I'll do anything! I'll—I'll... pay taxes! I'll eat vegetables! I'll watch less Netflix! JUST END THIS NIGHTMARE! I'm so confused!"

Rishi spun in circles, backpedaling, tripping, shouting, flailing, and crying all at once. "I didn't sign up for this! I just wanted nostalgia! I just wanted a childhood movie! THIS IS CRUEL! PURE CRUELTY!"

Then, slicing through his panic, came a hissing sound.

Rishi froze. His eyes went wide, and his body stiffened. That hiss... that's the Serpent King, isn't it? Oh gods... I'm so dead.

From behind a tree, a huge snake slithered out, scales glinting, eyes gleaming with menace. Its head raised, tongue flicking, and Rishi—already flailing like a wet noodle—screamed at the top of his lungs.

His legs gave out. His arms flailed. And with a thump, he fainted face-first into the moss.

Last coherent thought before unconsciousness:

"I am literally going to die... all because of a stupid childhood cassette..."

Rishi's eyes fluttered open, only to be swallowed by darkness. His head throbbed, and the faint smell of damp earth filled his nostrils. He tried to move, only to discover... his hands were tied behind his back.

"Wha—what the hell?!" he gasped, struggling against the ropes. "Did I fall into a dungeon? Did I die? Is this... is this the afterlife?!"

Slowly, carefully, he forced himself upright, legs shaking and arms straining. His heart pounded. Every nerve in his body screamed that something was off. A prickling sensation ran down his spine, his skin crawling.

Then... he felt it. Eyes on him.

Chills erupted from his scalp to his toes. He froze mid-step. His gaze darted into the darkness. Two tiny points of shining, predatory light pierced the shadows.

Rishi screamed—well, internally screamed—but it came out as a strangled, high-pitched squeak. "Oh gods—what now?" He fell back onto the ground, curling up instinctively.

Slowly, squinting and narrowing his eyes to focus, he could make out the figure.

"Parikshit...?" Rishi whispered, trembling so badly he could feel it even in his toes.

The snake before him—Parikshit, the most loyal serpent of Vasuki—stood with an unflinching, cold gaze. His face was stone, and the aura he exuded made even the coldest mountain winds seem like a warm breeze. Anyone would tremble under that look, let alone a weak, panicked, flailing man like Rishi.

"Am I... still dreaming?" he muttered under his breath, voice cracking.

Parikshit began to move toward him. Rishi's eyes snapped shut in panic. Don't look. Don't look. Don't make eye contact. Don't die. Don't die. Don't die.

A deep, cold voice cut through the darkness:

"Who are you?"

Rishi's heart nearly stopped.

"And... what were you doing in the thorn garden?" Parikshit's tone was flat, deadly calm, like ice sliding across obsidian.

Rishi's mind scrambled. Right...Why was I there in the first place?

Suddenly, realization hit him like a bucket of freezing water. Only those who betrayed the king were thrown into the thorn garden to rot and die as punishment.

"What—wait wait wait!" he gasped, eyes wide. "I—I'm not a traitor! I'm not! I swear!"

He opened his eyes and glared at Parikshit, though his limbs were still trembling uncontrollably.

Parikshit's gaze didn't waver. It cut through him like a frozen blade. Even Rishi's toes shivered under the pressure. Then, after a long, chilling silence, the snake spoke:

"I know. I don't remember throwing you there either."

He looked away, still composed, still deadly, and Rishi sagged in relief, collapsing back onto the ground in a mixture of terror and disbelief.

Rishi's brain ran a mile a minute. Okay. So... maybe I'm alive. Maybe I didn't betray anyone. Maybe... maybe I'm still going to die anyway... but at least I didn't die yet.

He flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling—or the dark shadows above—heart still hammering like a drum. Somehow, he had survived the first encounter. Somehow.

Barely.

Rishi's mind raced faster than a monsoon river. Hands tied, toes trembling, heart hammering—he had zero control over anything. Parikshit stood before him, coiled like a living statue of doom, the faint glint of his scales catching the dim light, eyes locked onto Rishi with the intensity of a thousand frozen storms.

"I—I'm really not a traitor!" Rishi squeaked, flailing his bound arms uselessly. "I don't know why I was in the thorn garden! I—uh... I was just... walking? Yeah, walking! Totally innocent walking!"

Parikshit's gaze did not waver. One could imagine a blizzard taking human form—that would be warmer than this stare. Rishi swallowed, feeling his toes curl involuntarily.

"And... you expect me to believe that?" Parikshit asked coldly, voice like ice breaking on stone. "Why should I not consider you guilty?"

"I—because—I mean—look!" Rishi stammered, voice cracking. "I didn't know it was forbidden! I just... I was exploring! Curious! Innocent curiosity! Totally harmless curiosity! I—I—"

His tirade ended in a squeak, and he realized he had been jumping around and gesturing wildly on the mossy floor. His ears burned. Great. First impression: chaos incarnate.

Parikshit shifted slightly, leaning closer. The shadow of his presence pressed down like a tangible weight. "Curiosity... in the thorn garden of the king... a dangerous place."

Rishi shrank backward. "I—I know! I swear! I didn't touch any thorns! Not even a tiny little nibble!"

Parikshit's gaze lingered, unblinking, silent. Rishi's knees wobbled. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest. He tried to calm himself. Okay. Calm. Just... talk... logically...

"Listen!" he squeaked. "I—I'm from... um... far away. Totally far. Different land. I don't belong here! I just... got... here by accident! Yeah! Accident! Total accident! That's me! Rishi, 28, accidental garden trespasser, short, chaotic... definitely not a traitor!"

He opened his mouth. Time to speak! Clear, calm, reasonable explanation!

And yet all that came out was:

"Uh... uh... uh... uh..."

Rishi's hands, still tied behind his back, waved uselessly. His toes curled, his knees buckled slightly. Perfect. Totally brilliant impression: flailing, incoherent, pathetic human. Exactly what every loyal serpent wants to see.

Parikshit's cold, piercing gaze did not waver. Rishi shrank back, teeth chattering. I am so going to die...

Then... a deep, intoxicatingly evil voice rolled through the chamber:

"A human in the realm of snakes? Truly magnificent!"

Rishi's eyes shot open. His heart nearly leapt out of his throat.

From the shadows, Vasuki emerged, tall, composed, and impossibly beautiful, each movement deliberate, each step echoing authority. His smirk was slow, cold, and deadly—like a blade wrapped in silk.

"It's been a while since I've bitten one," he added, voice low and teasing, dripping with menace.

Rishi froze mid-breath. He opened his mouth—again, words refused to come. He had rehearsed so many clever explanations in his head, but now it was like his brain had been replaced with jelly.

Internally, he screamed. Externally... all that came out again was:

"Uh... uh... uh..."

Vasuki's smirk deepened. He crouched slightly, as if inspecting a rare insect. Rishi's knees gave out, but he held himself up—barely. His toes were trembling violently.

Parikshit's cold gaze never left him, watching the panic-melting-human with clinical precision, while Rishi's brain continued its tragic, hilarious internal monologue: Oh gods, he's hot... and terrifying... and I'm probably about to die... WHY IS HE HOT?!

And in that frozen moment, Rishi realized: he might actually survive this... if he could just somehow—somehow—stop being a screaming, flailing mess.

Rishi's heart hammered in his chest like a drum corps on a caffeine binge. Okay, Rishi. Time to speak. Logical, confident, brave... human explanation...

Rishi's panicked brain suddenly hit upon a "brilliant" plan. Okay, okay, think... think like the movie!

In his childhood favorite animated cassette, whenever the female lead got into trouble, she would seduce the Serpent King. Every. Single. Time. And it worked. Brilliant. Genius. Logical. Perfect.

Rishi smirked, imagining himself the clever hero. *If she can do it... I can do it! I'll charm my way out! Smooth, confident, irresistible—he puffed out his chest dramatically in his head—and survive!

He opened his mouth, trying to say something flirty and mysterious, "Oh... mighty... uh... Serpent King... I... uh..."

Then, as he leaned forward, attempting what he thought was a seductive tilt of the head...

WHAM!

Parikshit's cold, strong foot smashed him squarely in the back of the thigh. Rishi let out a high-pitched squeal, flailing forward, face-first into the damp floor. His hands—still tied behind him—flopped uselessly like spaghetti.

Parikshit's cold, unwavering gaze bored into him. Not a twitch. Not a blink. Just pure, ice-cold judgment.

Rishi groaned, curled on the damp floor, cheeks burning—not from embarrassment, not from the fall—but from sheer mortifying humiliation. Parikshit's cold kick had knocked the wind out of him, and now he could barely move without flinching.

Why did I think seduction would work? he internally screamed. Why did I think movies apply in real life? But wait! This IS a world inside movie!

And then... the air shifted.

A deep, commanding voice cut through the chamber:

"Wait, Parikshit."

"You should've let me see what he was about to do," Vasuki said, voice low, smooth, and dripping with danger.

Rishi's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

Parikshit straightened but didn't move; he had clearly learned by now that even he could not contradict the Serpent King.

Vasuki's smirk widened, sharp and evil, as he walked closer to Rishi, each step deliberate, echoing in the dark chamber. The gold in his eyes glinted in the dim light, locking onto Rishi like a predator assessing an unusually flailing, terrified prey.

Rishi's internal monologue went haywire:

Oh gods... he's walking toward me... I'm going to die... wait... why does he look so hot... oh gods why am I thinking that... don't look like a total idiot... too late... I am screaming inside... my knees are jelly... my toes are curling... I'm literally melting into the floor... someone save me... someone help... oh gods he's smirking at me... wait why... WHY IS HE SMIRKING AT ME?!

Rishi's flailing arms—tied behind him—twitched uselessly. He couldn't even make a sound. Ahhh! I'm trapped! Trapped and tied! AND HOT!

And so he sat there, tied up, flailing just slightly, heart pounding in both terror and ridiculous infatuation, utterly at the mercy of the most terrifyingly composed—and evil-smirking—Serpent King in history.

Rishi barely had time to register Vasuki's evil smirk before it happened.

In one fluid, terrifyingly graceful motion, Vasuki bent slightly, reached down... and picked Rishi up over his shoulder like a child.

"Wha—WHAT?!" Rishi screamed, flailing his arms like a drowning squirrel. "HEY! PUT ME DOWN! WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME?!"

Vasuki didn't answer. His smirk widened, golden eyes glinting with amusement and... something else Rishi couldn't quite name.

Rishi's legs kicked uncontrollably, hitting nothing but thin air, his bound hands flailing uselessly behind him. "I—I CAN WALK! I'M AN ADULT! I'M TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD! THIS IS HUMILIATING!"

Vasuki's smirk deepened, unbothered. Each step he took made Rishi's stomach lurch. "Such spirit... yet so fragile," he murmured, voice low and smooth, teasing. "You are... interesting."

"INTERESTING?! INTERESTING?!" Rishi shouted, trying to squirm, only succeeding in wiggling slightly like a live sack of potatoes. "I'M NOT INTERESTING! I'M PANICKING! AND EMBARRASSED! AND—AND—AND..."

His rant broke off into incoherent squeaks.

Behind them, Parikshit moved silently,like a shadow, still cold and deadly, yet clearly watching with equal parts amusement and duty.

Rishi tried to reason with his captor. "I—I'm really heavy! And tied! And... I... I... can't breathe properly! AND I'M HOT! I mean... I'M COLD! WAIT, NO! I'M PANICKING! OH GODS! THIS IS HUMILIATING!"

Vasuki's smirk never faltered. In fact, he seemed to walk with more grace and deliberate precision, as if each of Rishi's flailing limbs made him more... entertained.

Every step sent Rishi bouncing slightly over Vasuki's shoulder, his face pressed against the Serpent King's broad back. He could feel the warmth of Vasuki's body, the subtle strength of his muscles, the terrifying... perfection.

By the time Vasuki reached the exit of the dark chambers, Rishi had managed a strangled, panicked squeak.

Vasuki's evil, slow smile widened. "Quiet, child," he murmured, and Rishi felt like a live toy being carried to some unknown, terrifying—but undeniably exciting—fate.

Rishi's brain short-circuited entirely. I... am... so... doomed!