"Rio de Orlando… the sole heir to the Orlando empire."
Arthur's voice was low, almost contemplative.
"This changes everything."
He began pacing slowly across the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the laptop screen reflecting in his sharp eyes. Every step was measured, controlled—but Jane knew better. Arthur's mind was moving at dangerous speed.
"We can't kill him now," Arthur continued, fingers tapping thoughtfully against his arm. "Not yet. We need to think this through carefully."
Jane leaned back in his chair, watching his friend with narrowed eyes. He had seen that look before—the look Arthur got when a plan began forming in that brilliant but terrifying mind of his.
"Our partnership with Orlando Corporation," Arthur went on, "is crucial for our expansion into S City. One wrong move and we lose years of groundwork."
Jane exhaled slowly. "Arthur… what exactly are you planning?" His gaze hardened. "We can't just pretend nothing happened. That boy saw too much."
Arthur stopped pacing.
For a brief moment, silence stretched between them.
Then—
He smiled.
It was not a warm smile.
It was the kind that meant trouble was about to begin.
"Jane," Arthur said smoothly, "prepare a new identity for me."
Jane's fingers froze above the keyboard. "A… new identity?"
Arthur's eyes gleamed.
"Create a clean, flawless profile. I want to enter XX University as a newly appointed professor."
Jane blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then he leaned forward slowly. "You're serious."
Arthur's smile widened.
"We'll make a generous funding deal with the university. In return…" his voice dropped into a silky murmur, "…I become their newest professor."
Understanding dawned across Jane's face, followed quickly by a crooked grin.
"Oh," Jane breathed. "Oh, that's evil."
Arthur resumed pacing, his tone calm but edged with steel.
"We cannot afford to lose the Orlando contract. To dominate S City, we must secure this partnership."
He stopped near the window, staring out into the darkness.
"But at the same time," he continued softly, "as a professor… I'll have direct access to Rio."
Jane's eyes sparkled with admiration. "You want to get close to him."
Arthur didn't deny it.
"If things remain smooth," Arthur said coolly, "we sign the contract and everyone walks away happy."
His gaze darkened.
"But if that boy becomes… problematic—"
His fingers curled slowly.
"—then after the contract is secured…"
The air in the room turned cold.
"I'll eliminate him myself."
Jane let out a low whistle.
"Damn, Arthur," he muttered. "You really don't do half measures, do you?"
Arthur shot him a flat look.
Jane raised both hands in surrender—but the excitement was obvious on his face. "Relax, boss. I'm impressed."
He cracked his knuckles and turned back to the laptop.
"Alright then. Let's build Professor Arthur."
His fingers began flying across the keyboard at lightning speed.
"I'll forge academic credentials from top universities… publications in international journals… guest lectures… recommendations…" Jane muttered as he worked. "By the time I'm done, XX University will beg you to join."
Arthur leaned casually against the desk, watching the screen but not really seeing it.
His thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.
To a certain young man.
Rio de Orlando.
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly.
What kind of person faints at a brutal murder scene… yet doesn't panic?
What kind of person looks like that?
Not fear.
Not shock.
Something else.
Something familiar.
Arthur's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Orlando Mansion — Same Night
Across the city, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Warm.
Quiet.
Almost peaceful.
Inside the Orlando mansion, the tension that had filled the house earlier was slowly beginning to ease.
Rio's fever had finally begun to subside.
Eve carefully checked his temperature one more time before allowing herself a small sigh of relief.
Just then, the bedroom door opened softly.
Richard Orlando stepped inside.
"How is he?" Richard asked quietly.
"The fever's coming down," Eve replied gently. "He should be much better by morning."
Richard nodded slowly and approached the bed.
Rio was sleeping peacefully now, his breathing steady, his face no longer flushed with fever. In sleep, he looked younger—far too innocent for the dangerous world circling around him.
Richard's expression softened.
He reached out and gently rested his hand on Rio's head, fingers brushing lightly through his hair.
"Get well soon, son," he murmured.
His voice carried a weight few ever heard.
"Your dad is worried about you… don't make me this scared again."
For a moment, the powerful businessman looked nothing more than a tired father.
"You are my life, Rio," he whispered. "I only have you."
The Next Morning
Sunlight streamed softly through the tall windows.
Rio's eyelashes fluttered.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
A sharp headache jolted through his skull.
"Ow…" he muttered, pressing a hand to his temple.
Everything felt slightly foggy, like waking from a dream he couldn't quite remember.
Still, after a few moments, he pushed himself upright.
"I'm fine," he mumbled to himself stubbornly.
After freshening up, Rio changed quickly into his university clothes. His usual bright energy had returned, though a faint heaviness still lingered behind his eyes.
When he came downstairs, the warm smell of breakfast greeted him.
In the dining area, Richard was just placing a bowl of porridge on the table.
"Good morning, Dad!" Rio chirped brightly.
Richard looked up—and immediately frowned.
"Why are you dressed?" he asked. "Where are you going?"
Rio blinked innocently.
"Oh, Dad! I have to go to university today. They're announcing the topic for our new assignment."
Then—
He made an exaggerated puppy face.
Richard stared at him for a long second… then helpless amusement slipped through his concern.
This boy.
Even after last night.
"Are you sure you're well enough?" Richard asked more gently. "You had a very high fever."
Rio puffed his cheeks dramatically.
"I'm perfectly fine, Dad! See?" He spread his arms and spun once like a child showing off.
Richard sighed, though a small smile tugged at his lips.
"Sit down first. Eat."
He pushed the bowl of porridge toward Rio.
"I made this specially for you."
Rio looked at the bowl like it had personally offended him.
"…Dad."
"Yes?"
"I am not a bedridden patient," Rio protested. "Why are you feeding me hospital food for breakfast?"
He leaned forward slightly, voice turning pleading.
"Please give me something spicy, na…"
Richard froze.
For a split second, something unreadable flashed through his eyes.
After the kind of fever Rio had last night… and this boy was arguing about porridge.
Richard studied him carefully.
Too carefully.
"…Rio," he said slowly, "do you remember what happened yesterday?"
Rio blinked.
Then—
He giggled.
His bunny teeth flashed as he scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"Ahh… sorry, Dad. I got too excited yesterday and took the Ducati to university."
He grinned nervously.
"Don't be mad. I'll go by car today, promise."
Richard's heart dropped.
What…?
That's what he remembered?
Nothing else?
No bridge.
No blood.
No horror.
Richard stared at his son in stunned silence.
Inside his mind, alarm bells were ringing loudly.
Did he really forget?
Or… did his mind block it again?
Rio, completely unaware of his father's turmoil, happily started eating—though still looking mildly betrayed by the porridge.
Seeing him so normal… so cheerful…
Richard forced himself to relax.
For now.
There was no point pushing.
After breakfast, Rio grabbed his bag.
"Bye, Dad!"
And just like that, he was gone.
Later That Morning
The moment Rio's car exited the mansion gates, Richard's expression changed completely.
He picked up his phone immediately.
The call connected quickly.
"Hello, Doctor. Richard speaking."
"Yes, Mr. Orlando. How is Rio this morning?"
"He appears perfectly fine," Richard said, though his tone was tight. "But I believe he has forgotten what he witnessed yesterday."
There was a pause on the other end.
"I'm concerned," Richard continued quietly. "Last night's incident made him lose consciousness. But today… there is no trace in his memory. Is this… dangerous for his health?"
The doctor's voice became gentle but firm.
"Mr. Orlando, please listen carefully. Do not pressure Rio."
Richard's grip on the phone tightened.
"You know his condition. His childhood trauma already caused partial memory suppression due to extreme fear and psychological overload."
Richard closed his eyes briefly.
Fourteen years.
Still haunting.
"If his mind chose to block what he saw yesterday," the doctor continued, "then forcing him to remember could do more harm than good."
Silence filled the study.
"For now," the doctor said softly, "let him rest. Let his mind recover naturally. If he remains stable, this may actually be his brain's way of protecting him."
Richard exhaled slowly.
"…Understood."
But even after the call ended—
The unease in his chest did not disappear.
Because somewhere deep inside…
Richard Orlando had a terrible feeling.
The past—
Was starting to move again.
And this time—
It was heading straight toward his son.