The car rolled to a stop. Irlyn unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door. At the same moment, Sara pushed hers open — but before she could step out, Irlyn extended her hand toward her.
Sara blinked, lifting her thick lashes.Her brown eyes met Irlyn's — she was standing there, hand out, waiting.
"Come on…" Irlyn said softly.
Sara took her hand, letting Irlyn help her out of the car. Irlyn shut the door gently, her touch elegant and warm as she kept Sara's hand in hers while locking the car. Together, they walked toward the restaurant.
Sara's eyes lifted slowly, taking in the entire place from top to bottom.It was beautiful — maybe too beautiful.
"Alexa… this looks expensive," she whispered.
One of Alexa's hands slid casually into her trouser pocket, the other rested lightly on the back of Sara's waist. Sara could feel the warmth of her fingers even through the fabric.
Alexa looked at her, smiling.
"It looks expensive. It's not. And even if it was… I wanted tonight to be good for you."
Sara's heart skipped. She quickly looked away.
Inside, a waiter guided them to a corner table by a tall window. Snow drifted outside, and soft jazz filled the warm air. Candlelight flickered between them.
Sara held the menu, though she wasn't really reading it. She kept stealing glances at Irlyn through the warm glow of the candle.
Irlyn noticed, raising one eyebrow."What?"
"N–nothing," Sara murmured. "You're just… different tonight."
Irlyn leaned back, her suit sharp, her tie loose, a silver ring resting on her thumb. She looked effortlessly confident.
"Different good or different bad?"
Sara's voice softened."Good… very good."
Their dinner arrived —• Creamy roasted mushroom pasta for Sara• Grilled lemon butter salmon for Alexa• And a molten chocolate dessert Alexa ordered "even if Sara says no."
When they stepped back out into the cold night, Alexa didn't ask.She simply slipped her hand into Sara's.
"Sara," she whispered, "I want to take you somewhere."
"Where?" Sara asked, breath caught in her throat.
"You'll see."
Alexa led her through two streets until neon lights and laughter burst into view. A glowing sign read:
"Luna Park Arcade & Lounge."
Inside, it was a colorful dream —rows of arcade machines, purple lights, caramel popcorn drifting through the air, the crack of air-hockey tables, claw machines stuffed with plush toys.
"Oh my God… Alexa," Sara breathed.
"I mean… Irlyn," she corrected.
The smile on Alexa's face softened."Sara, please. Call me Alexa. It's not my real name but… I like it when you say it."
Sara paused, then nodded."Okay… Alexa."
Alexa's smile widened fully this time.
Without another word, she handed Sara a game card.
"You… brought me to an arcade?" Sara asked, blinking.
Alexa leaned close, her voice warm against Sara's ear.
"I brought you somewhere you could breathe."
And for the first time in days, Sara smiled — a real, bright smile.
After almost half an hour of laughing and playing, Alexa's eyes caught something across the arcade.Sara was focused on a claw machine, so deep in concentration she didn't notice Alexa stepping away.
Sara bent slightly, hands resting on her knees, eyes wide with wonder as she stared at a dragon plushie inside the glass. Her silky hair fell across her shoulders, hiding part of her neck.
"Hey, sweetie," a male voice called out.
Sara straightened, startled."H-hi…"
Two or three more guys approached — clearly his friends.
"You here alone?" one asked.
"No… I'm not alone, I—"
Before she could finish, one stepped closer."Play with us? He's a great player," he said, pointing at his friend.
Sara's eyes darted around the arcade.Alexa wasn't there.
Fear crawled up her spine.Then, suddenly — Lyall's voice echoed in her head.
"What's wrong? You need me?"
Yes… please…
But then everything went silent.
No voice.No presence.Just emptiness.
Lyall? …Lyall?
Nothing.
"You're really pretty," one of the boys said, stepping closer. "Come with us."
Sara froze.Her father's hands — those horrible memories — slammed back into her mind.
And then—
A warm hand slid around her waist.
"It's okay… easy," Alexa whispered behind her.
The boys looked up and snickered — until Alexa shifted her coat slightly.
A gun glinted at her side
They weren't brave boys.Just troublemakers.
"Oh— sorry, ma'am," one stammered before all of them scattered instantly.
Alexa adjusted her coat again, covering the weapon.
Sara stared at her, breath shaky."Alex… where did you go?"
Alexa held up a handful of arcade coins."To get these. I'm sorry, Sara. I shouldn't have left you alone. I'm really, really sorry."
Sara looked at the coins and finally smiled."You knew I wanted to play?"
"I know everything," Alexa replied, pretending to brag.
Sara laughed softly.
Alexa handed her a coin.Sara tried the claw machine but she failed successfully.
Alexa gave her another.She failed again.
Alexa gave her one more coin — then stepped behind her.
Sara felt it before she saw it.
Alexa's presence.Close. Warm. Quiet.Her suit brushed lightly against Sara's back as she reached forward, placing her hands gently over Sara's.
"Easy…" Alexa whispered, the softness carrying through her breath.
Sara froze for a second — because Alexa's breath touched her cheek, warm against the cold winter air of the arcade. A heartbeat stumbled in Sara's chest.
Alexa moved with her.Guiding her hands.Steady. Patient. Warm.
The metallic claw moved left… then forward…
Sara held her breath.
"Now," Alexa murmured.
The claw dropped — clamped — lifted.
And it held.
A black dragon plushie fell into the chute with a satisfying thud.
Sara gasped, and an involuntary squeal escaped her — bright, pure, childlike.
Alexa didn't laugh at her.She smiled — a soft, private, blooming smile that no one else ever got to see.
Then she slipped the last coin into the machine herself.
Unlike Sara, her movements were precise — confident. She angled the claw perfectly, lowered it, and a white dragon plushie came out easily.
She picked both plushies from the chute and placed them into Sara's arms gently, almost ceremonially.
"For you," she said.
Sara hugged them to her chest, glowing from the inside.
"Let's go home…" she whispered.
Alexa reached for her hand — not quickly, not hesitantly — but with the quiet assurance of someone who had already chosen her.
And they walked out together.
The cold night air brushed their faces as they stepped out of Luna Park. Street lamps cast long, golden lines on the pavement. Sara tightened her grip on the plushies; Alexa tightened her grip on Sara.
A few minutes later, they were inside the car.Alexa started the engine — the soft hum filling the silence — and pulled onto the winter road.
The city was quiet.Only a few cars passed by, their headlights gliding like ghosts on the snowy asphalt.
Alexa drove a little faster than before. Not recklessly — just with a strange energy running beneath her calm exterior. Something she couldn't name.
She glanced to the side.
Sara was smiling.
Her hair fell softly over her shoulder, cheeks faintly pink from the cold… or from the night. The two plush dragons were tucked close to her chest like she was protecting them.
Alexa felt something loosen inside her — something heavy she always carried.
"You're happy?" she asked, voice low, almost afraid to break the moment.
Sara didn't look at her immediately.She kept her eyes on the slow-falling snow outside the window, smile still resting on her lips.
"Yes…"She breathed out, almost like a confession."So happy. I haven't felt this happy in a long time."
Alexa swallowed. Something warm — too warm — spread in her chest.
"Anything for you, Sara," she said quietly.
Sara didn't turn her head…But Alexa saw her fingers tighten a little on the plushie.She heard the small breath Sara took.
She heard everything.
The car settled into silence — but not an awkward one.
It was the kind of silence that fills a room like a blanket.Soft.Warm.Safe.
A silence that said more than words ever could.
Outside, the snow kept falling.
Inside, Sara kept smiling.
And Alexa kept glancing at her — every few seconds — as if reassuring herself that the moment was real.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
It was evening, and as usual, people were returning to their homes. Mid-January, the winter at its peak—some were cozy inside warm houses with their loved ones, while others still sat in restaurants and shops, earning their fortunes for those waiting at home.
Sam was at home too—or rather, at Zero's home. Of course, after Zero had left, Sam had locked his own apartment and moved into Zero's place. Now, in the cold, dimly lit house, he sat on the sofa in a chair-like posture, arms and legs folded, a mobile in hand, a movie playing on the LED screen in front of him. On the coffee table lay two empty cup noodle boxes, and one freshly prepared hot cup noodle box, now cold.
Sam was watching the movie, yet his mind was elsewhere—focused on what was happend today. He was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice the chill. The curtains still swayed in the breeze; all the windows were open. Sam came to the house only for a few reasons: to shower, sleep, or eat—and sometimes he even ate outside.
Friends? Only Jacob remained. He no longer trusted Sato. After what he had seen, it was clear that Sato was no ordinary girl.
In just three months, he had begun to appear almost unwell—his hair had grown, dark circles had formed under his eyes, and he seemed constantly tired. He had never felt so drained.
The sound of the movie echoed in his ears like noise, until, annoyed, he finally turned it off. The house fell completely silent. There was no sound now—just as if no one existed there at all.
Sam turned on his phone and opened Instagram. With vacant eyes and a wandering mind, he scrolled through posts aimlessly. Nothing appealed to him.
Then, suddenly, his thumb froze on the screen. His eyes flickered with a hint of interest. It wasn't a spark—it was an ad. Bold letters screamed: "URGENT NEED."
For a moment, Sam went deep into thought. Then, like a scene from a movie, today's incident replayed in his mind:
A girl had approached his counter. "Hello!" she said, smiling. "My name is Elia."
Sam, busy at work, glanced up at the girl standing before him. She was quite pretty. He smiled back. "Hello, I'm Sam."
Without wasting time, she said, "You're very handsome. May I have your phone number?"
"Sorry, actual-.....", Before Sam could respond, Sato appeared from nowhere, clinging to his arm. sam's eyes goes wide "Sorry, girl, he's mine," she said firmly. "And don't look at what's anyone else's. Now, leave."
Sam was stunned by Sato's intervention, unable to speak. The girl left, pouting, while Sato returned to her normal composure. Immediately, she pulled out her own phone, ignored Sam's shocked expression, which are mixed with so many questions, and whispered into her phone: "listen, Send me all the details about this girl. Track her down. Pick her up. Inform sir too."
Sato hung up. As soon as she ended the call, she froze for a moment, completely stunned. Sam, standing there, watched her, and even more questions began to appear on his face. But almost instantly, Sato composed herself, regaining her usual calm. Without saying a word, she walked out of the locker room, leaving Sam to process everything.
Lost in thought, Sam clicked on the ad. Another form opened on his screen, asking for his information. Without thinking, he filled it out, unsure even to himself why he was doing it.
After submitting, the screen displayed: "We will review your information. Please wait for our email."
Annoyed, Sam switched off his phone, tossed it aside, and got up to take a shower—completely unaware of what he had just set in motion.
After some time, Sam emerged from the bathroom, shirtless, towel draped over his shoulders, running his damp hair through his fingers. He moved toward the fridge, pulled out a cold can of wine, and began drinking. The chill of the liquid slid easily down his throat, and for a moment, he felt… normal, calm. One long gulp later, he stared at the can, exhaling deeply, thinking about how wine had quietly replaced coffee in his life. A small, ironic smile tugged at his lips. Tossing the empty can into the nearby little trash bin, he grabbed another from the fridge and repeated the process. Three cans, four cans… soon, he was thoroughly wasted.
The last thing he remembered was staggering to his bedroom, collapsing face-down onto the bed, hair damp and messy, and drifting into a heavy, alcohol-soaked sleep.
Morning arrived with a pounding headache. His head spun violently; nothing seemed clear. He didn't even want to think. A sneeze greeted him, and he muttered to himself, sarcastically, "Wow… congrats, Sam." Still groggy, he reached for his phone—only to remember he had tossed it onto the sofa the night before. Grumbling, he got up, went to the bathroom, and returned ten minutes later.
He wandered into the kitchen, grabbed a plate, split a couple slices of bread, placed one carefully on the plate, and held the other between his teeth as he made his way back to the lounge. Sitting down, he finally picked up the phone. The first notification made his eyes widen in disbelief, and the piece of bread fell from his mouth onto the plate. Heart racing, he opened the email.
Golden, bold letters screamed at him: "CONGRATULATIONS."
Below, the details sprawled out:
"You have been selected as a waiter in THE NOCTURNE ACCORD event at the Obsidian Tower, Minato Ward, Tokyo. For more information, please contact +81 701234xxxx."
Sam grabbed his head, groaning. "Fuck… what the hell have I done? Which job did I click on yesterday?"
Panicked, he immediately searched the event online. His mind reeled. The Nocturne Accord was a VVIP gathering, attended by CEOs, international investors, ambassadors, and elite patrons from across Asia. Secretive, private meetings. True identities barely used. Sam's stomach sank—he was trapped.
"Where the hell have I gotten myself…" he muttered, picking up the phone and dialing the contact number immediately.
After a few rings, someone picked up. A calm, measured female voice came through the line:
"Hello, Obsidian Tower. Whom may I direct your call to?"
Sam swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke."Ah… hello. My name is Sam. I filled out your form yesterday. I… I actually want to cancel this job. I can't take this work. Please, can you choose someone else?"
There was a brief pause. Then the voice replied, polite but firm:"One moment, Mr. Sam. Let me check."
Sam paced nervously across the lounge, running his hands through his hair, the weight of the email and the VVIP event pressing down on him. A few heartbeats later, the voice returned:
"Yes, Mr. Sam. We have verified your information. You have indeed been selected—for a one-night engagement. Unfortunately, we cannot make any changes. This is a very exclusive, VVIP event. If you have any concerns, we suggest you attend training starting today, so that you will be prepared for the upcoming event and face no difficulties."
Sam opened his mouth, but only managed a short, stunned reply:"Ah… okay… thank you."
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Sam," the woman said calmly, and the line went dead.
Sam sank into the sofa, feeling the room spin around him. He had no idea how he was going to survive a night among Asia's most powerful elites.
Sam ran a hand over his face and forced himself to sit up straight. He picked up the slices of bread again and took a bite—but he couldn't finish even one.
At that moment, there was only one name echoing in his head.Jacob.
He stood up abruptly, grabbed his coat, shoved his feet into his shoes, and walked out of the house without a second thought.
Half an hour later, he was knocking on Jacob's door.
"Coming, coming—damn it," a sleepy, irritated voice came from inside.
Jacob was never awake this early in the day, so Sam had come straight to his place. Within seconds, the door opened, and Jacob appeared, rubbing his eyes.
"What the—" He stopped mid-sentence. "Sam?!"
Jacob genuinely looked shocked. Seeing Sam at his doorstep at ten in the morning was unheard of.
"Jacob… I'm in trouble," Sam said.
One look at Sam's face was enough to tell Jacob that this wasn't something small.
"Come in. Sit down. We'll talk calmly," Jacob said, stepping aside.
Sam walked in silently.
Ten minutes later—
"What?!"Jacob's voice echoed through the room."And you declined it?!"
"No," Sam replied helplessly. "They refused to cancel it."
Jacob stared at him."Then what's the problem with this job?"
Sam took a deep breath and spoke everything in one rush.
"The problem is—those people are elites. I mean, they didn't call me there just to be a waiter, right? And what if they don't let me leave that easily?"
He stopped only to press a glass of water to his lips.
Jacob fell into deep thought.
"Hm… you're not wrong," he said slowly. "But the salary is good. Think about it— with that money, you can upgrade your café."
"But—" Sam tried to speak.
Before Sam could finish, Jacob continued,"And if they selected you, they didn't do it randomly. They must have checked your background too."
Sam's stomach tightened even more.
He couldn't forget the Alexa incident. That was exactly why he was scared.
"Look, Sam," Jacob tried to reason with him,"It's a win-win situation. If you work there, the salary alone could let you turn your café into a full-on soap-opera lounge. Either way, you benefit."
Sam went quiet, lost in thought.
"You're right," Sam finally admitted.
Then suddenly, something came back to him.
And this time, Sam told Jacob everything—the entire incident from the last time.
Now it was Jacob's turn to fall into depression.
He had been leaning against the wall for a long time, but now, shocked, he had dropped into a chair.
"So… basically," Jacob muttered, "we're seriously screwed."
Sam nodded.
"But who's behind all this?" Jacob asked.
Sam exhaled sharply, frustrated."Wait. I'll check online."
Jacob's face lit up."You know how to dig up this kind of information."
That comment annoyed Sam even more.
"You bastard," Sam muttered, grabbing the cushion beside him and throwing it at Jacob.
Jacob laughed and caught the cushion mid-air.
It was an abandoned building.
A bucket filled with water was dumped over her head.
With a sharp intake of breath, she opened her eyes. She was breathing heavily, gasping. Her vision was blurred, but through the haze she could make out two figures standing in front of her. And she recognized one of them instantly.
"You?!" she exclaimed.
"Yes. Me," Sato replied calmly as she loaded her gun. "Now answer me honestly—what were you doing there?"
The woman tried to move, only to realize that both her hands and feet were tightly bound. She couldn't move.
Sato pressed the cold barrel of the gun slowly against her face.
"You're beautiful," she said lightly. "But do you know whose property you were messing with?"
"I know very well," the woman hissed, like a snake.
"Well then," Sato said, her tone sharpening, "let's see how brave you really are. Tell me—who sent you?"
This time, Sato shouted at full volume and signaled with one hand to the man standing behind her.
The man, his face hidden behind a mask, disappeared for a moment and returned carrying a portable electric shock device and a tub of water.
Sato stepped back.
The man pulled out battery clamps and attached small clips to the woman's ears, another to her forehead. He crouched down, removed her shoes, and lowered her bare feet into the tub of water.
There was no fear in the woman's eyes.
Sato looked at her closely. The smile on her face made it clear—she didn't care.
Sato smiled back.
Within moments, the wires were fully connected.
"So, Elia," Sato said sweetly, "we're going to give you a pedicure—our way. The sooner you open your mouth, the better. Otherwise, the monster behind me will peel your skin right off."
She gestured affectionately toward the man standing behind her.
Sato tilted her head and nodded.
The machine was switched on.
Fifty milliamps.
Elia's body jolted violently—but she was still smiling.
"That's it?" she mocked. "Is that all you've got?"
"Oh," Sato smiled. "I thought you were fragile. My mistake."
The man turned the dial.
Two hundred milliamps.
Elia screamed as if fourteen layers of hell had burst open beneath her. Her body convulsed violently, jerking uncontrollably.
Sato nodded again.
This time, the current was increased to two amps.
Elia could no longer even scream.
Sato raised her hand sharply.
"Stop. Not yet. We're not killing her that easily—we need information first."
The current was cut.
Elia slumped, barely conscious. Burn marks covered her feet.
"Now," Sato said coldly, "any intention of talking?"
"I—I'll tell you… I'll tell you everything," Elia stammered through broken words.
"Good." Sato pulled out her phone and opened a photograph. "Now tell me—who is this? And what's your connection to him?"
"You're showing her a picture of a corpse," the masked man said. "She'll recognize him."
"This is the only picture I have," Sato snapped. "Or should I show her yours instead?"
The man scratched his head awkwardly.
The moment Elia saw the image, she screamed.
"L–Liam!!!"
Sato immediately pulled the phone away.
"So his name is Liam," she said calmly, turning on her camera. "Now talk. Slowly. Clearly."
Tears streamed down Elia's face.
"Liam was my brother," she cried. "We worked for the same organization. They monitor every single one of our positions."
Sato glanced briefly at the man beside her—a silent signal to stay alert.
"If we fail our mission," Elia continued, "they kill us."
Sato raised her hand again.
"How do they kill people? And who are they?"
"I can't say their names," Elia sobbed. "But their methods are… mysterious. Their people are everywhere. They can do anything."
She paused.
"What business do you have with Sam?" Sato asked suddenly.
Elia froze for a second. Then she laughed bitterly.
"So he wasn't your boyfriend after all," she said.
Sato didn't react.
"My mission was to lure Sam," Elia continued. "Trap him. Hand him over to the organization. But I failed. And now… they'll kill me any moment."
Sato turned off the recording.
"Very good," she said quietly. "Is there anything else you haven't told us?"
"I've told you everything I know," Elia replied with a hollow smile. "My brother is already dead. They'll kill me too. I'm no longer useful."
Sato made a call and signaled to the man.
They had barely stepped outside the building when Sato heard something.
She turned—but there was no one.
Within seconds, she sprinted back inside.
"Luis! Get to Elia—now!" she shouted.
Luis drew his gun and ran after her.
A scream tore through the building.
Elia's scream.
Luis fired a shot and ran with full force up to the third floor.
But they were too late.
Sulfuric acid had already been poured over Elia's body.
Sato couldn't bear the sight. She covered her mouth and turned away, gagging.
Luis stepped forward.
What lay before him could no longer be called a body. The acid had left behind nothing but remains.
Luis pulled out his phone, took a photograph——and then left the building with Sato
To Be Continued...