Two years ago.
Two years of rot, festering where my heart used to be.
I remember the exact moment the seed of hatred sprouted—cold, bitter, poisonous. I didn't water it; it grew on its own. It fed on every humiliation, every loss, every night I lay awake replaying what the Serenity Family had taken from me. From us.
Now, standing in the dim chamber illuminated only by the flicker of a single dying lantern, I felt all those years condense into a single breath.
"As you loathed and resented the name of Grayan," the voice murmured beside me—silky, patient, as if savoring each word—"so did I with yours."
A twisted symmetry.
A shared wound.
The others flanking him did not speak. They didn't need to. Their stillness was its own language—a vow made of shadows. There was no trust among us, merely aligned vengeance. For now, that was enough.
"Their power and prestige, second to none in the entire kingdom," he continued, stepping forward, revealing half his face. The lantern light carved sharp angles across his features. "Their hotels, their businesses, their land… all of it has made them untouchable for generations."
I felt my jaw tighten. Untouchable. That word alone had fueled my rage for years.
"This," he whispered, almost reverently, "is our chance to take everything away from them."
His words didn't ignite me—they solidified me. Like metal cooling into a blade.
The table between us creaked as he set down a crimson envelope, the color startling in the low light. It wasn't just red; it was vivid—like a wound that refused to scar.
"There is a top‑secret document from the Meuracevian government."
His tone shifted, losing its theatrics. This was real. Serious. Dangerous.
The person to his right—a hooded figure with gloves tight around slender fingers—leaned forward and slid the envelope toward me. Even through the material, they handled it with a caution that made the hairs on my arms stand.
"This information was very difficult to obtain," they said, a hint of satisfaction breaking through. "While we weren't able to uncover its entire content, we know the gist."
A chill coiled around my spine.
The Serenity Family… was hiding something.
An object. Or multiple. Something significant enough for a foreign government to classify it at the highest level.
"According to that document," the figure said, tapping the envelope, "the Serenity Family has been protecting it for decades. Perhaps longer."
I exhaled slowly, steadying myself before opening it.
The flap wasn't sealed—but it felt like opening it might awaken something ancient.
"We must find out what it is," I murmured, my voice softer than I expected.
Not because I was afraid—no. Because instinct demanded caution. This wasn't another scandal, another business deal, another political maneuver.
This was something older. Something that could alter the balance of power entirely.
"We don't know what it looks like," the figure added, frustration sharpening their words. "If it's one item or several. If it's a relic, a document, a key… or something else entirely."
"What we do know," the leader said, "is that the Serenity Family has gone to extraordinary lengths to keep it hidden."
He paused, meeting my gaze head‑on.
"We will discreetly pass along any additional information as soon as it's found."
I nodded. The envelope remained unopened in my hand, heavier now, as if the air around it responded to its presence.
"Now," he said, snapping his fingers once, sharply.
A woman in an elegant black suit stepped forward from the darkness, her heels clicking against the stone floor like a metronome of impending war. Another figure—a young man with ink‑stained hands—approached her, and they exchanged stacks of documents without a word.
"And one more thing," the leader said, gesturing toward them. "Bring us information pertaining to the Serenity Family's business endeavors."
I swallowed. This was… bigger. Much bigger.
"This is a matter of the utmost importance."
His gaze bore into mine, fierce and unwavering.
The kind of gaze that didn't request—it commanded.
"The Serenity Family's fate depends on it."
My breathing slowed. Not from fear, but from realization.
My revenge—personal, burning, consuming—was no longer mine alone. It had become a cog in a larger machine, a grand design twisting far beyond my initial hatred.
The family's downfall was not the prize.
It was merely the beginning.
As the figures began to disperse, cloaks rustling and footsteps fading, a gentle breeze slipped through the cracks of the stone walls, brushing against me like a whisper of warning.
The crimson envelope remained in my hand.
An unopened prophecy.
"...You now have a new target," the leader said, his voice echoing long after he vanished from sight.
My new orders weren't merely instructions; they were chains.
"Find out as much as you can about where they invest, what land they purchase, and what businesses they start up."
The conspirator's voice replayed in my mind with cruel clarity as I traced my finger across the top sheet of the dossier. Their expectations were clear: infiltrate, observe, report, dismantle.
By the time I stood at the Serenity mansion's doorstep weeks later, I had shed my old identity like a snake shedding its skin. I walked through their carved marble halls with a steady step and a silent mind—at least, that was what I wanted the others to believe.
Hatred, I reminded myself.
Hatred is what got me here.
Your mansion was an empire of warmth and glass and unspoken grief. And you—so unlike the others—were the first anomaly in the equation. The first danger I hadn't accounted for.
The memory of that day refuses to fade. You stood at the far end of the study, bathed in winter sunlight, the documents spread before you like the invisible burdens of your title. You didn't see me enter. You didn't hear me move. But I saw the way your fingers trembled, just once, when you thought no one was watching.
A weakness.
A vulnerability.
A flaw I was meant to exploit.
But instead, I memorized it.
And for the first time, my hatred hesitated.
In those early weeks, resentment was the only anchor I had. I clung to it like a drowning man clings to dead driftwood.
Yet every piece of information I collected—every deal, every ledger, every late‑night call—made my stomach twist just a fraction tighter.
Because the truth I had been given was… incomplete.
Because you were not the monster I had been trained to destroy.
I saw your doubts.
Your exhaustion.
Your loneliness so profound it echoed down the halls at night.
And little by little, the cold fire of revenge turned inward. My resentment stopped being directed at you—and began to gnaw at me. Every lie I told you, every smile I faked, was another incision carved into my own conscience.
Then the snowfall came.
That morning, the world outside was a vast, silent expanse of white—peaceful in a way I hadn't felt in years. You stepped outside in your heavy cloak, brushing the frost from the railing as if it were something delicate and alive. When you turned and I saw your smile—unrestrained, pure, luminous—it struck me harder than any blade.
Joy.
Your joy.
It infiltrated me without warning, seeping into the fractures of a heart I didn't know still existed.
I knew then: I had crossed a line.
The more warmth you gave, the more brutal the truth became.
I saw what they were doing to you.
Deliberate psychological warfare—designed to crack you open slowly.
You grew thinner. Quieter. A shadow of yourself.
Your shoulders, once held high with forced dignity, began to curve inward.
One night, I saw you leaning on Eiser for support, your face ghost‑white, your breath shallow and uneven. Not from illness—but from fear. The kind of fear that strangles hope until there's nothing left.
And I knew exactly why.
"The fear that Eiser would betray you after taking away everything your family had… was enough to torment you to the brink of death."
The words had been spoken to me by the conspirator as if they were discussing a weather report. Cold. Detached. Precise.
Their intention had never been to destroy your family first.
It had been to destroy you.
"If the moment comes when everything truly is taken away from you," they said, "you wouldn't be able to handle it."
That was the point.
That was their plan.
And I—fool that I was—had been complicit.
When I looked at you through the frost‑covered window that night, your silhouette fragile under the dim lantern light, something inside me broke.
Not cracked.
Broke.
The man staring back at me in the reflection—the man with emerald eyes steeped in guilt—was no longer the servant of a shadowy vendetta. He was someone else entirely. Someone who had made a choice.
…I had a change of heart, deciding that I would protect you from them.
Not for redemption.
Not for forgiveness.
But because you were the first person to treat me like I wasn't a weapon.
My mission shifted in a single breath—from annihilation to salvation.
From destroying your world… to saving it.
I had entered your home with hatred.
But I stayed because something stronger—and infinitely more dangerous—had taken root.
A loyalty born not of duty, but of love.
A love that would make me betray everything I once stood for.
And now, my double life is no longer their weapon.
It's your shield.
The moment I resolved to protect you, my mission mutated. It grew teeth.
The hatred that once fueled me sharpened into something far more perilous: purpose.
Not vengeance.
Not righteousness.
But the grim, unwavering determination to keep you alive.
The conspirators would not stop—not until they tore out every secret the Serenity family had guarded for decades. And when they finally uncovered that object…the one whispered about in confidential circles, a relic of immeasurable consequence…
I knew exactly what would happen to you.
"You will fall apart endlessly, break into pieces over and over again, and eventually fade away."
The prediction I once accepted as collateral damage now pierced me like a blade twisting deeper with each heartbeat. The notion of you—your laughter, your quiet strength, your stubborn hope—being extinguished was something I could no longer stomach.
So there was only one solution:
I must find the object before they do.
It was the keystone of their plan, the axis upon which all destruction would turn.
In my hands, it could become the one advantage that would keep you breathing.
But the object had been hidden for decades… longer, perhaps. Entire generations had lived and died without discovering its existence. To search for it without understanding the puppeteers behind this scheme would be reckless.
I retreated to the annex library—its air stale, its shelves sagging under the weight of forgotten knowledge. Shadows stretched across the room like skeletal hands. The perfect place for truth to sleep.
"I must find out the identity of this mysterious group… and figure out… what it is they seek from you."
My fingertips traced the ridges of old leather-bound volumes as though the answers were hiding in the texture. I felt like an intruder trespassing in the Serenity family's private history—except now, it wasn't for their downfall.
It was for their salvation.
For yours.
Only by understanding the conspirators' true intentions could I dismantle their operations, cut their strings, and burn their schemes to the ground.
Protecting you meant protecting this house, this legacy, this world you were desperately trying to uphold.
But then—
a complication walked into the room.

Frederick.
Even thinking his name tasted like iron.
I had been so focused on unraveling the past that the present struck me with cruel timing. You stood in the opulent living room—your delicate hand resting on his sleeve. His posture, his gaze, that soft smile carved with practiced devotion… everything about him screamed manipulation wrapped in silk.
A snake disguised as loyalty.
"Serena keeps Frederick close to her because she doesn't trust me…"
The thought burned.
It shouldn't have—but it did.
And the burn was only made worse by the sound that shattered the atmosphere:
CREAK.
A door opening.
A presence stiffening.
Eiser stepped inside with a dangerous calm that didn't fool me for a second. His jaw clenched, his eyes glinting fiercely as he took in the scene—you beside Frederick. Something ugly and protective twisted in him.
"Hmm. As it looks like I will need to leave you two alone before you either go ahead and shoot him or talk…"
He exhaled sharply and forced a hollow smirk.
"I suppose I had better make my exit now."
His retreat was brimming with unspoken turmoil—
STEP.
STEP.
STEP.
Each footfall echoed into the silence like a warning.
Eiser was a threat tangled in love.
Frederick was a threat tangled in lies.
You were the center between these opposing storms, and I—
I stood in the shadows, watching you all collide.
"And given how deeply rooted her distrust is, this incident won't be sufficient for her to dismiss Frederick."
No, it wouldn't.
You had known Frederick for years.
Trusted him.
Relied on him.
He had woven himself through your life with meticulous patience—an infestation disguised as devotion. And the incident in the annex? It was nothing. Just him touching your stuffed toys.
That was all the world would see.
Harmless.
Innocent.
But I knew better.
Yet releasing him now…
with such flimsy evidence…
was too dangerous.
So I watched from behind the doorframe as realization settled in my chest like a stone.
You were surrounded by threats—
one hidden in velvet,
one unraveling himself with jealousy,
and one—me—caught in the liminal space between savior and danger.
And I alone knew what hunted you from the shadows beyond your walls.
So, my path became brutally clear:
I must find the mysterious object…
and I must discredit Frederick.
Before either one destroys you.
Before I lose the chance to save you.
---
Now that I have located the emotional heart of the mystery,
I understood one crucial truth:
The object wasn't just hidden in the Annex.
It was protected by it.
The Annex was not merely a preserved relic of your childhood—
it was the heart of the Serenity legacy, beating silently beneath layers of dust and devotion. Its walls whispered stories, its old beams groaned under memories, and its air was thick with the scent of a family that time refused to bury.
This was not a room someone would casually search.
This was not a place you allowed strangers to enter.
This was not a structure that could be easily defiled.
If the conspirators wanted the object, they would first need to destroy everything this Annex represented. Your family. Your history. Your sanctuary.
And I—ironically—stood closer to it than anyone else.
I stepped deeper inside, my boots leaving faint marks on the polished wooden floors, each step like trespassing across a child's graveyard of innocence.
Your cradle.
Your tiny stroller.
The little paints from your brief artistic phase.
Old toys, faded but cherished.
Family photographs hung in perfect alignment along the hallway.
Everything perfectly preserved, as though frozen at the very moment tragedy first grazed your life.
"This place…" I breathed out quietly, "…is where you still live, even when you are not here."
My hand hovered over a shelf lined with neatly arranged storybooks. When I touched one, a puff of dust rose—gentle, like an exhale.
The Annex wasn't just memory.
It was protection.
It was warning.
It was the perfect hiding place precisely because it was the last place anyone with ill intent would dare disturb.
Anyone except those like me—
the ones who walked the boundary between outsider and guardian.
Something in the room stirred then—not physically, but in my mind.
A realization.
A faint echo of the conspirator's intent:
"There is an object the Serenity family has kept hidden for decades."
Decades.
Meaning it predated you.
Pre-dated the fall.
Pre-dated the shadows now closing in around you.
The object wasn't part of your memories.
It was part of your bloodline.
And that meant the Annex was only the first layer.
As I scanned the space, a map of the mansion's design formed in my mind—the hallways, the locked doors, the sealed archive rooms.
"Now that I have located the emotional heart of the mystery," I murmured to myself, "I must find where the veins lead."
Your parents must have left clues. They were meticulous.
You never noticed the concealed latch embedded into the underside of the old art table. But I did. Years of espionage make one notice the way certain wood panels are smoothed by touch, the way hinges are too well-oiled, the way small scratches form a pattern.
I knelt, fingers brushing the faint line running across the paneling.
A hidden compartment.
But there was no time to open it—not when your footsteps echoed faintly from the corridor outside. Not when Frederick's shadow still slithered around the mansion. Not when Eiser's own investigation threatened to expose everything before I understood the pattern.
I rose silently.
The Annex, for all its nostalgia, was not just a sanctuary.
It was the lid of a sealed vault.
To open it recklessly would be to trigger the very catastrophe I was trying to prevent.
And outside these walls, the world was shifting.
Eiser's investigation had begun. The blue-eyed fiancé was too sharp, too determined, and too deeply intertwined with your fate. If he connected the dots faster than I could—
You would be caught between two hunters.
One wanting to save you.
One wanting to expose you.
Neither aware of the other's true motives.
And then there was Frederick.
He moved like perfume—subtle, soft, intoxicating, clinging to you even after he left the room. His corruption was expertly masked, woven into gestures of loyalty and years of proximity.
But the cracks had begun.
Your trust in him—unshakeable a month ago—now trembled like fragile glass. Suspicion had finally snuck into your eyes when you looked at him.
Good.
"Not long now, Frederick," I whispered, glancing back at the Annex door.
"You'll find yourself being tossed out of this house."
And when that happened…
You would have one less enemy within these walls.
But for me, the path was only growing more dangerous, the stakes heavier, the urgency sharper.
Because the moment the conspirators realized I had betrayed them—
the moment they sensed even the slightest hesitation—
They would come for you.
They would come for the object.
And they would come for me.
So I stepped away from the Annex, carefully closing the door behind me.
I had a hidden vault to locate.
A traitor to expose.
And a woman to protect at any cost.
And every second I hesitated,
the conspirators closed in.
---
I had ruled out dozens of potential hiding places—carefully, methodically, obsessively—but the Annex was vast, and every inch of it was soaked in decades' worth of untouched memory. Each preserved item carried emotional weight, but none had revealed a functional secret.
And yet… the silence in the Annex was a clue in itself.
Nothing had been added, altered, repaired, or moved for years.
So the hidden object wasn't merely placed here—
It was woven into the place itself.
A ghost among ghosts.
I was running out of time.
The danger surrounding her was escalating. Frederick's paranoia had increased since the warehouse incident, and Eiser's private investigation into Sui put everything on a collision course.
These men weren't allies—they were knives pointed at each other's throats.
And I was caught between them, trying to keep her out of the line of fire while hunting an invisible object that had dictated the fate of her family long before she was born.
Every pressure point was tightening.
I could feel the walls closing.
Still, there was one part of the Annex I had avoided.
Not purposefully—
Emotionally.
It was the bedroom her parents once shared, kept exactly as it w