[Pala town junction, late evening. Sunlight filters through coconut trees. A church bell rings as a black jeep screeches to a stop near an old bookshop. Locals glance over. Silence.]

Out steps Ebenezer Vincent. White shirt, folded mundu, Rolex flashing. Calm face, sharp eyes. The kind of guy who doesn’t chase time — time follows him.

(mutters to himself) "No more playing it safe with Appachan's mess… My turn now."

He strolls toward the church, nods at a few elders. Kids run past the gate, laughing. He pauses, scans the courtyard — calm, but alert.

(on phone) "Thoma. Find Balvin. Three days." Click.

Then — he spots someone across the church. Unexpected. A rare smile cracks his usual stillness.

(smirks, murmurs) "Who’s that..."