The cold asphalt and the smell of rust from the old warehouse assaulted Monica's senses. Her breath hitched, her chest tightening as her back hit the flimsy wooden wall. In front of her, three men with disgusting grins slowly approached, surrounding her in the stuffy darkness.
"Don't... please don't do this," Monica whimpered. Her trembling fingers tried to tighten her office blazer, which was already slightly torn at the shoulders.
One of the men laughed. His voice was hoarse and deep, the kind that made Monica's hair stand on end. "It's quiet here, beautiful. No one will hear you even if you scream until your vocal cords break."
Just as the man's rough hand was about to touch her face, a low, cold voice broke the silence.
"Let him go."
Monica turned with all her remaining strength. In the darkest corner of the warehouse, a man stood still. His hair was messy, his jacket was tattered, and he looked like someone who hadn't touched the comforts of the world for a long time. However, his gaze was sharp, intimidating anyone who dared look at him.
The leader of the thugs snorted disdainfully. "Who are you? Stay out of this or you'll regret it, you bum!"
The man didn't reply with words. He stepped forward with a calm yet deadly movement. In the blink of an eye, he was before them. His movements were so fast, almost impossibly fast for a normal human. Monica could only stand still as she heard the sound of bones shifting, followed by a heartbreaking groan of pain.
In a matter of seconds, the three men collapsed to the floor, groaning as they clutched their injured limbs.
There was a moment of silence. Monica's breath was still ragged, chasing after the dwindling oxygen. The man turned and looked at Monica, who was still cowering in the corner of the room. For a moment, their eyes met. There was something dark, yet strangely protective, in his eyes.
"Run from here," the man said coldly. His voice was hoarse, sending a strange shiver down Monica's spine. "Now."
Without thinking, Monica got up and ran as fast as she could to her car parked far outside, leaving the mysterious figure in the darkness.
An hour later, in her luxurious office downtown, Monica still couldn't focus. Her hand holding her coffee cup was still shaking violently. Images of the warehouse, the sound of the thugs' footsteps, and especially the mysterious man's face kept flashing in her mind.
Why do I keep hoping it's him? Monica thought. She clenched her fingers on the steering wheel, trying to banish the crazy thoughts that were starting to invade her logic.
"Monica? Are you okay?" Mr. Surya, her boss, knocked on the door with concern. "Your face is very pale. If you haven't fully recovered from the shock this morning, you can leave early."
Monica looked up, trying to force a thin smile, even though her lips felt stiff. "It's okay, sir. I can continue working."
However, those words were nothing but lies. The day had felt incredibly long. Monica entered data incorrectly several times, and even spaced out for a long time until the office phone rang. She felt as if a part of herself had been left behind in that old warehouse, with the man who had saved her.
As it was time to go home, rain poured down heavily on the city. Monica walked hesitantly to the parking lot. She felt as if a pair of eyes were watching her from afar. It was the same feeling she had in the old warehouse.
She got into the car, locked the door quickly, and stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror. There, behind the raindrops that streaked the rear window, she saw a silhouette standing still under the dim streetlight.
Monica's heart was pounding painfully. She rubbed her eyes roughly, and when she looked back in the same direction, the silhouette was gone. There was only wet asphalt and the reflection of streetlights reflected in the puddles.
Monica gripped the steering wheel tightly. Little did she know that her encounter in the old warehouse was no coincidence, but the beginning of a destiny that would drag her into the dark life of the long-forgotten heir.