The moment Ratul was dropped off at the leader's house, he wasted no time and dashed straight to the dining table. Slamming himself into a chair, he announced with a dramatic sigh, "I haven't had breakfast this morning. I'm starving!"

The leader's men, stunned by his audacity, exchanged glances. One of them clenched his fists and took a threatening step forward. "You dare sit and eat when you're about to die?" he growled.

Just as the men were about to pounce on Ratul, the leader raised his hand, signaling them to stop. A sly smile formed on his lips. "Let him have his last meal in peace. Give him breakfast."

Ratul's stomach churned, not from hunger but from fear. He forced a nervous chuckle. "In that case, I'd like breakfast made by your sister. I've heard she's a great cook."

The room fell silent. The leader's men looked at each other, unsure if Ratul had lost his mind or had nerves of steel. The leader raised an eyebrow, then turned toward his sister, Anjana, who stood at the corner with her arms crossed, watching the scene unfold.

"Anjana," the leader said, his voice laced with amusement, "make him some breakfast."

Anjana rolled her eyes, stormed into the kitchen, and after a few minutes, returned with a plate. She slammed it in front of Ratul. "Eat up," she sneered. "And get ready to die. I warned you not to follow me around. Didn't I?"

Ratul, despite the imminent threat to his life, took a bite and smacked his lips. "Mmm! Absolutely delicious! If I'm dying today, at least I'll die with a satisfied stomach."

The leader's men cracked their knuckles, getting impatient. As soon as Ratul finished his meal, he stood up abruptly and darted toward the leader's bedroom.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" one of the men barked, running after him.

"The washroom! Urgent!" Ratul replied without looking back.

The leader, now thoroughly entertained, gestured to his men. "Show him the washroom."

One of them pointed the way, and Ratul rushed inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

A few moments passed. Then more moments. Then several long, agonizing minutes. The leader's men exchanged confused glances.

One of them banged on the door. "Oi! Come out!"

From inside, Ratul's voice boomed, "Can't a man take a peaceful dump before dying?"

The gang members groaned in frustration, pounding on the door again. "Enough of your games! Come out right now!"

Inside, Ratul had his hands raised toward the ceiling. "Oh Lord," he whispered, "You have given me love, kindness, and a strong survival instinct. Now I leave my fate in Your hands."

Outside, the leader sighed, rubbing his temples. "This is the first time we've had a hostage who decided to turn my washroom into his fortress."

His men grumbled, continuing to knock, but Ratul showed no sign of coming out.

And so, the gang waited. And waited. And waited.

Meanwhile, inside the washroom, Ratul had no intention of leaving anytime soon.