Female Lead (FL) Name: Aloo (real name Alo)

Student in modern-day Dhaka balancing her higher education with family responsibilities. Work: Works as a fast-paced food delivery rider in Dhaka to support her sick mother and pay for her younger brother's expenses.

Male Lead (ML) Name: Ghiyasuddin Azam Shah Background/Study: Highly educated in classical Persian literature, state administration, strategy, and Islamic jurisprudence. He is also a master trained in traditional combat, swordsmanship, and archery. Work/Status: A 14th-century rebel Prince of Bengal fighting for survival in Sonargaon, who later becomes the third Sultan of the Ilyas Shahi Dynasty.

again time travel shit?😂

oh I cant get over dude

so lets start

The heavy scent of metallic blood and burning canvas hung thick over the plains of Goalpara. My armor felt like a lead weight pressing down on my chest, hot from the midday sun and stained with the dust of battle. Around me, the camp was a chaotic symphony of groaning wounded soldiers, clashing steel, and the heavy, rhythmic stamping of war elephants.

We had won. The rebel forces of Sonargaon had broken the royal lines. But the price... Allah forgive me, the price was too high. I strode purposefully toward the grand imperial tent, my hand white-knuckled on the hilt of my unsheathed, blood-flecked sword. My long silk cape trailed in the dirt behind me. As I ripped open the heavy embroidered curtain of the tent, seventeen faces turned to look at me. Seventeen faces that carried my father's blood, yet looked at me with the eyes of starved wolves.

In the center stood their mother—my stepmother—her silks pristine, her face a mask of cold defiance.

I took three slow, deliberate steps toward her, the tip of my sword dragging a line through the expensive Persian rugs on the floor. The brothers shifted, but none of them had the courage to step between us.

I looked at my seventeen brothers. My own blood. Yet, in their eyes, I saw only future plots, future poison, future knives in the dark. A deep, hollow loneliness washed over me. I was completely alone in this world.

I walked out into the blinding sun, retreating to my private strategy tent. I tore off my heavy helmet and threw it against the wooden table, sending maps scattering across the floor. I collapsed into my carved wooden chair, burying my face in my hands. The throne was mine, but my family had completely destroyed me.

ALOO’S POV

2026

I am walking in circles, my worn-out flip-flops thumping against the chipped tiles. I am so stressed my head feels like it's going to explode. My little brother, Aman, didn't even look up from his phone, casually leaning against the dining table.

I instantly stopped pacing. My chest tightened with guilt. I walked quickly into the small bedroom, where my mom was propped up against two thin pillows. She looked so pale, the dark circles under her eyes showing just how exhausted she was from the endless cycles of medication.

But inside, my stomach was doing flips. How? We were a textbook middle-class family balancing on a wire. One emergency, and we'd completely sink. I stood up, needing a breath of fresh air, and walked out to our tiny balcony. The Dhaka traffic below was a chaotic mess of honking rickshaws and yellow headlights. I reached into my denim jacket pocket to grab my phone, but my fingers brushed against something heavy, cold, and rough

I pulled it out. It was a jagged, metallic rock, no bigger than a walnut, but it had a strange, iridescent glow—like oil on water, shimmering with deep blues and purples.

An hour ago, during my last delivery near Old Dhaka, a bizarre old man with a long white beard and ancient-looking clothes had stopped my scooter. He didn't ask for money. He just stared at me with these intense eyes, pressed this rock into my hand, and whispered, "The hungry king awaits the star-born harvest," before literally vanishing into an alleyway. I thought he was just a crazy local, so I threw it in my pocket.

Azam Shah stood at the balcony of the grand palace in Pandua, watching the heavy rain wash away the blood and dust of the civil war. He had made his decision. He would not become the monster his stepmother wanted him to be, but he would not be naive either. The next morning, the seventeen princes and their bitter mother were marched out of the imperial capital under the heavy guard of Azam’s most loyal soldiers. They were stripped of their royal titles, their gold-trimmed robes replaced with simple linen, and their names erased from the palace records.

With their political power completely neutralized and their lives reduced to a closely monitored exile, the stepfamily could do nothing but watch from afar as the boy they tried to destroy became the greatest ruler the land had ever seen.

Two Years of Real Historical Wonders (1390–1392 CE) Over the next two years, Ghiyasuddin Azam Shah completely transformed Bengal. He didn't just rule; he built a golden age through real historical wonders that made him famous across the medieval world:

The Miracle of the Sharia Court: Azam Shah established absolute, independent legal justice. This was the era of his famous trial, where he willingly stood before the Qazi (Judge) as an ordinary citizen after his arrow accidentally hit a widow's son. By obeying the law and paying the compensation, he proved that even the Sultan was not above justice, completely eliminating judicial corruption across Bengal

The Global Universities (The Mecca & Medina Madrasas): Azam Shah wanted Bengal's influence to reach the heart of the Islamic world. He sent massive fortunes of royal gold across the ocean to the holy cities of Islam. He funded and built two magnificent, fully functional Madrasas (Islamic universities)—one right near the Umme-Hani gate in Mecca, and another at the Gate of Peace (Bab-al-Salam) in Medina. He also bought estates there to ensure the teachers and students would be funded forever, making the Sultan of Bengal a legendary name in the Middle East.

The Golden Literary Court & The Persian Connection: He turned Bengal into a global hub for poetry and art. He famously sent his own Bengali-Persian poetry to the world's greatest Persian poet, Hafez Shirazi. Hafez was so impressed by Azam Shah's brilliance that he wrote a special poem praising the Sultan and the sweet culture of Bengal, putting the kingdom on the international cultural map

The Royal Mint System & Trade: He completely stabilized the economy by issuing high-purity silver coins from multiple royal mint towns, boosting trade with China and Persia, and making everyday citizens wealthy.

He did all of this in just his first few years on the throne—proving he was a visionary king, even while his heart remained deeply lonely, waiting for a certain delivery girl from the future to disrupt his royal world.

In the heart of modern Dhaka, the glowing screen of a smartphone illuminated Aloo’s face as her thumbs furiously tapped the controls. She and her younger brother were deeply locked into an intense, high-stakes mobile gaming match. Tension hung heavy in the air until a sudden, booming voice shattered the silence of the apartment.

Aloo and her brother jumped, quickly muttering apologies and scrambling to close the game. Little did they know, the sound of their domestic chaos had just traveled across the fabric of time itself

Panic in the Imperial Chamber Six hundred years into the past, within the royal stone chambers of Sonargaon, the atmosphere was thick with a completely different kind of terror. Sultan Ghiyasuddin Azam Shah sat at his heavy wooden desk, his trusted royal assistant standing nearby with official state documents.

Suddenly, a strange, disembodied feminine roar echoed directly out of thin air, followed by the faint, mechanical chirping sounds of a digital game.

The assistant’s face turned completely pale. He dropped the parchment scrolls, his knees knocking together in sheer fright.

Azam Shah stood up instantly, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. His sharp eyes scanned the empty room, looking for a physical threat, but there was nothing to strike. The terrifyingly loud voice had seemingly vibrated right out of the walls

The guards searched every inch of the royal wing, but they found absolutely nothing. Terrified of supernatural forces, the palace staff hurriedly called a local Hujur (cleric) to recite prayers and cleanse the imperial chambers of whatever invisible spirit was invading their space.

Despite the prayers, the bizarre incident left the Sultan deeply shaken and tense. For days, the mysterious voice haunted his thoughts, compounding the immense, suffocating pressure of ruling a divided kingdom and dealing with his treacherous stepfamily.

Seeing the monarch growing more hollow by the day, the royal physician was summoned to examine him. After checking Azam’s pulse, the elderly doctor sighed heavily and turned to the court attendants

Standing at the edge of the room, listening to the doctor's grim diagnosis, was Azam Shah's foster son. Being only five years younger than the Sultan, the young man was more like a trusted brother and a close confidant than a typical child. He looked at his foster father with eyes full of deep anxiety. The young prince knew how heavy the crown was, and seeing the usually fearless Sultan losing his appetite and wasting away from stress filled his heart with dread

He vowed to do whatever it took to break the Sultan’s depression