ANDERSON ESTATE - MORNING
"Did you hear? They found a body this morning!"
"What? Where?"
"That old warehouse in the industrial district. The police have the whole area blocked off!"
Nana paused on her way down the grand staircase, catching fragments of the maids' conversation drifting from the kitchen. She clutched her art portfolio tighter, frowning slightly.
A body? In the industrial district?
"Miss Nana!" Mrs. Lee emerged from the kitchen, looking flustered. "Good morning, dear. I was just about to call you for breakfast."
"Good morning, Mrs. Lee." Nana glanced toward the kitchen where she could still hear hushed voices. "What were they talking about? Something about the police?"
The older woman's expression grew somber. "Ah, just some unfortunate news. A man was found dead in a warehouse last night. The police are investigating."
"Oh." Nana felt a chill. "That's terrible."
"These things happen in the city, sadly." Mrs. Lee gently steered her toward the dining room. "But that's not all. Your father received a call this morning—your new art tutor won't be coming."
Nana blinked. "What? But Professor Choi is still sick, isn't he?"
"Yes, but the replacement tutor..." Mrs. Lee lowered her voice. "My dear, he was the man they found. The police identified him this morning."
The portfolio slipped from Nana's fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud.
"He... he's dead?" Her voice came out smaller than intended. "But he was supposed to teach me today. At six."
"I know, sweetheart. It's very shocking." Mrs. Lee picked up the portfolio, squeezing Nana's shoulder. "Your father is already arranging for another tutor. Don't worry."
But Nana felt cold. A man who was supposed to be in her house, in her art studio, was found dead in a warehouse.
What was an art tutor doing in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the night?
Something felt wrong.
She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed to Xavier:
*Xaviee, did you hear the news? My new art tutor died last night. The police found him this morning. It's so scary...*
She waited, staring at her phone.
One minute.
Five minutes.
No response.
That was... unusual. Xavier always responded quickly, even if it was just a sleepy emoji or a simple "mmm."
She tried calling.
It rang and rang, then went to voicemail.
"Xaviee? It's me. Um, just checking in. Call me back when you can?"
Nana chewed her lip, worry gnawing at her stomach. She pulled up their chat history—he'd sent her a good morning text at 7 AM, asking about breakfast. She'd responded saying she had to study at home today.
But that was three hours ago, and now he wasn't answering.
A terrible thought crept into her mind. Last night, she'd gone to his apartment around 9 PM, excited to watch a new K-drama together. She'd even brought snacks.
But when she'd arrived and used her key code, the apartment had been empty. Dark. Xavier's bedroom untouched, like he hadn't been there all evening.
She'd waited for thirty minutes, texted him multiple times asking where he was, but he'd only responded at 11 PM with: *Sorry, Starlight. Study group ran late. Go home and rest. Too late for you to be out. 💙*
Study group.
But Xavier barely interacted with his classmates. He always said they were too loud, too energetic, that he preferred studying alone or with her.
So where had he really been?
"Miss Nana?" Mrs. Lee's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Are you alright? You look pale."
"I'm fine." She forced a smile. "Just... shocked about the tutor."
"Of course. Why don't you eat something? You'll feel better with food."
Nana nodded mechanically and moved to the dining room, but her mind was elsewhere.
Where was Xavier?
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XAVIER - SAFE HOUSE - SAME TIME
Xavier was dying.
Not literally—though the knife wound in his elbow suggested someone had certainly tried. But he was exhausted in a way that went beyond physical. Bone-deep. Soul-deep.
He sat slumped in the driver's seat of a stolen car, parked on an abandoned bridge that overlooked the river. His phone had been buzzing for the past ten minutes with calls and texts from Nana, but he couldn't answer. Not yet.
Not until he cleaned himself up.
Blood dripped from the cut across the bridge of his nose, running down to his jaw. His left elbow throbbed where the assassin—the *second* assassin sent by the Serpent Guild—had gotten a lucky hit with a serrated combat knife.
Twenty assassins in one night.
*Twenty.*
The Serpent Guild had clearly decided that subtle wasn't working. So they'd sent a small army.
Xavier had eliminated them all.
But even he had limits.
He pulled medical supplies from the glove compartment—every car he used for operations had a first aid kit—and began the practiced routine of patching himself up. Antiseptic on the nose wound first, making him hiss through his teeth. Bandage wrapped carefully to minimize visibility.
The elbow was worse. Deeper. He'd need stitches, but he didn't have time for that now.
His phone buzzed again.
*Xaviee, did you hear the news? My new art tutor died last night. The police found him this morning. It's so scary...*
Xavier stared at the message, at her fear bleeding through the text, and something violent twisted in his chest.
She was scared because of what he'd done.
Because he'd killed a man before that man could hurt her.
And she'd never know. Could never know.
He started to type a response, then stopped when he saw his reflection in the rearview mirror. The cut on his nose was poorly bandaged, still seeping blood. His left eye was starting to bruise from where he'd been thrown against the car door during the fight. His elbow was wrapped but blood was already soaking through.
He looked like exactly what he was—someone who'd spent the night in brutal combat.
If Nana saw him like this...
His phone rang. Her name flashed on the screen with her contact photo—her grinning at the camera with cotton candy, taken just yesterday at the festival.
Xavier closed his eyes.
Declined the call.
He typed quickly, his fingers steady despite the pain:
*Sorry, Starlight. In a study session, phone was on silent. Just saw your messages. That's terrible about your tutor. Are you okay? Want me to come over later?*
The lie came easily. Too easily.
He hit send, then immediately started bandaging his elbow properly, working with the efficiency of someone who'd patched up combat wounds hundreds of times.
Behind him, in the river below, the current carried away the body of the man who'd called him "pretty boy" approximately fifteen minutes before Xavier had put a bullet through his forehead.
The same man who'd been posing as an art teacher at Nana's college.
The same man who'd had detailed floor plans of the Anderson estate on his phone, along with photos of Nana's daily schedule.
Xavier had made it look like an accident—the car had "lost control" on the bridge, plunged into the river. The assassin had been "thrown from the vehicle."
The bullet wound wouldn't be found until the autopsy, by which time Xavier would have already made sure the evidence pointed toward rival gang activity.
He was good at covering his tracks.
His phone buzzed with Nana's response:
*I'm okay, just shaken up. It's so weird that he died the night before he was supposed to teach me. What are the odds? 😰*
*And yes PLEASE come over later! I could use a Xaviee hug. Are you done with your study group soon?*
Xavier's jaw clenched. She needed him, and he was sitting in a stolen car, bleeding, with a body in the river behind him.
He typed: *Should be done around 2 PM. I'll bring snacks. Hang in there, Starlight. 💙⭐*
That gave him roughly four hours to:
1. Dispose of this car
2. Return to his apartment
3. Shower off the blood
4. Change clothes
5. Apply makeup to hide the bruising
6. Come up with a plausible explanation for any injuries he couldn't hide
Four hours to transform from the Shen devil's back into sleepy, harmless Xavier.
He'd done it before.
He could do it again.
Xavier pulled out his encrypted phone—separate from his civilian phone—and sent a message to Jihoon:
*Status on remaining targets?*
The response came within seconds: *All 20 confirmed eliminated. Serpent Guild has gone completely dark. No new contracts issued. They got the message, Boss.*
*Good. Clean up crew?*
*Already dispatched. Car will be processed, body will be "found" by fishermen in 6 hours. Coroner's report will indicate accidental death during gang-related flight.*
*My wounds...*
*How bad?*
Xavier glanced at his elbow, at the blood still seeping despite the bandage: *Manageable. I'll handle it.*
*Boss, you need proper medical—*
*I said I'll handle it.*
There was a pause, then: *Miss Anderson is asking for you.*
*I know. I'm going to her at 2.*
*In your condition?*
*I don't have a choice.*
Another pause. Then Jihoon sent: *You could tell her the truth.*
Xavier almost laughed. The sound would have been bitter.
Tell her? Tell his Starlight that he'd just killed twenty men? That he was the most feared mafia lord in the city? That every time he held her, his hands were stained with blood she couldn't see?
That he was a monster wearing her best friend's face?
*Not an option,* he typed back.
*Then at least let me send medical to your apartment. You can't see her bleeding through your shirt.*
Xavier looked down. Jihoon was right—the blood was starting to show through the bandage, darkening the fabric of his black tactical shirt.
*Fine. Send someone discreet. 30 minutes.*
He pocketed the encrypted phone and started the car, carefully maneuvering away from the bridge. The stolen vehicle would be dumped in one of his organization's chop shops, completely untraceable by evening.
As he drove through the empty industrial streets, his civilian phone buzzed again.
Another message from Nana: *Thank you for being the best friend ever, Xaviee. I don't know what I'd do without you. 🦋💕*
The silver bracelet she'd given him caught the morning light streaming through the windshield. The blue star charm glinted.
Xavier's grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles went white.
She thought he was the best friend ever.
If she knew what he really was...
But she wouldn't. He'd make sure of it.
Even if it killed him to keep lying.
Even if the weight of his double life crushed him eventually.
For Nana, he'd smile and pretend to be human.
And at night, he'd be the monster that kept her safe.
By 1:45 PM, Xavier looked almost normal.
The medical specialist Jihoon had sent—a woman named Dr. Yoon who asked no questions and had stitched up Xavier more times than he could count—had patched his elbow properly. Thirteen stitches, covered by a bandage that could pass for a sports injury.
The cut on his nose had been treated and covered with a small butterfly bandage. He'd told Dr. Yoon to make it look like something from a minor accident—tripped while carrying books, maybe. Something believable.
The bruising around his eye had been covered with expertly applied concealer. Dr. Yoon was as skilled with makeup as she was with sutures.
He looked tired—there was no hiding the exhaustion in his eyes—but he always looked tired. That was part of his civilian cover.
Xavier pulled on a soft gray hoodie, loose jeans, and checked his reflection one final time.
Sleepy college student. Harmless. Gentle.
The monster was hidden.
He grabbed a bag of Nana's favorite snacks—chocolate Pocky, honey butter chips, strawberry milk—and headed out.
The teleportation would have been faster, but he couldn't risk appearing instantly at her estate. Someone might notice. So he walked, like a normal person, enjoying the afternoon sun.
His phone buzzed.
*I see you from my window! You're here! 🎉*
Xavier looked up at the Anderson estate and saw Nana waving frantically from her second-floor bedroom window, her smile visible even from this distance.
Despite everything—the pain, the exhaustion, the blood he'd scrubbed from under his fingernails—he smiled back.
Real and genuine.
Because she was safe.
And that was all that mattered.
The gates opened, and he walked toward the house where his Starlight waited, completely unaware that the monster who loved her had just painted the city red to keep her safe.
Two faces.
Two lives.
The silver bracelet glinted on his wrist as he raised his hand to wave back.
For her, he'd keep both worlds separate.
No matter how much it hurt.
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To be continued.