He turned to his beloved Padmavati, her face radiant with beauty, and said, “Hear my words, O lovely one.” At that moment, his friend Buddhidaksha inquired, “Where is she now?” The words struck Padmavati with the force of a thunderbolt, sharp and sudden. Buddhidaksha, ever devoted to the worship of Chitragupta, remained steadfast in his spiritual observances. Meanwhile, the king arrived, urgency written on his face. He questioned his friend, “Why have you not eaten the food my beloved has prepared for you?” Yet, after consuming the meal, the friend met his death, a sight that filled the king with astonishment. The king then said, “Friend, go home quickly; I have abandoned the sinful woman.” He instructed further, “Bring that ornament and place the trident at her knee.” Obediently, the king went, carried out the command, and returned. Then, assuming the form of a yogi, Buddhidaksha accepted the king as his disciple, adorning him as one would with an ornament. Imagining himself crowned with a thunderous diadem, the king returned to the city, following the yogi’s instructions. The news spread swiftly, and Dantavaktra addressed the king. The ascetic with matted hair said, “O King, my guru is staying in the cremation ground.” Upon hearing this, the king immediately summoned the guru. In the cremation ground, the mantra was established by the yogi’s own form. There, with a trident at her left knee, the woman handed over the ornament. The king, crowned with his thunderous diadem, accepted it and returned home. A question was then posed: “Among the four, upon whom has great sin fallen? Tell me now.” Sūta continued: Upon hearing these words, the king named Vikrama smiled and replied to Bhārgava, “Indeed, the sin has come to the king.” For it was the king’s son who accomplished the purpose, though the king himself was the agent. It is said: If a man sees Rajovati, the daughter, and does not marry her—yet she herself performed the gandharva marriage out of desire—then he who, lacking discernment, abandons a maiden who is without visible fault, is at fault. Hearing thus, the Vetāla recited a verse on dharma, prompted by the king’s own inquiry. Thus concludes the first chapter in the glorious Bhaviṣya Mahāpurāṇa, within the Pratisarga Parvan, specifically the section called the Caturyuga-khaṇḍa-aparaparvāya. Now, the excellent twice-born Vetāla, with a clear and tranquil mind, spoke these words: Once, upon the bank of the sacred Yamunā, stood the auspicious city of Dharmasthala. There, a king renowned for his virtues ruled wisely over his kingdom. His queen, Suśīlā, was devoted to her husband and known for her virtue. The king’s younger sister, Madhumatī, was a young woman of virtue, beauty, and fine qualities. Her brother journeyed far and wide, seeking the most worthy suitor for his beloved sister. For the sake of learning, Sattvaśīla himself traveled to Kāśī. In that city, there was a renowned man named Vāmana, distinguished by his noble appearance, virtue, and maturity. Meanwhile, Suśīlā, the youthful maiden, was overcome with distress—so much so that she neglected food, clothing, drink, and sleep. One day, Suśīlā saw the brāhmaṇa Vāmana. At the same time, Hariśarmā, during a ritual, saw the brāhmaṇa Trivikrama, and Satyaśīla, in Kāśī, as well as Keśava, the guru’s son, were present in these events. On the thirteenth day of the dark fortnight of the month of Māgha, the auspicious alignment of Bhṛgu was remembered. It was at this time that the maiden was bitten by a serpent.