Caroline's lips parted in a soft sigh, her body still warm under the sheets.
"You're always so quiet after," her boyfriend murmured, buttoning his shirt. "Tired already?"
She didn't respond—only turned away, the exhaustion in her bones louder than words.
"You never learn to appreciate me."
He smiled coldly.
And then—
Chrich—
Blood sprayed across the pristine sheets. Caroline's breath never came again.
Caroline, his only girlfriend, lay lifeless—murdered by the very man who once claimed to love her.
"Well," he muttered, staring at her motionless body, "there's no point in showering now. I'll just get soaked in her blood again when I carry her to that forgotten place to bury her."
In the eerie, open ground…
Dig. Dig. Dig.
"Huff… this should be deep enough," he said, panting. "I've hidden the evidence. No one will find her now. That's it."
And just like that, he vanished into the shadows.
"I'm back, children," Father's voice drifted in through the front door—low, strained, and stained with something thicker than fatigue.
I paused mid-stir in the kitchen. The ladle trembled in my hand.
That smell.
Metallic.
Again.
Nancy came skipping from the living room. "Dad!" she squealed.
Before she could reach him, I moved fast, stepping between them. His dark coat was drenched—wet and red. Not rain.
"Hey! Why do you always block me like that, Ari? Is he naked or something?" she pouted.
Father glanced away, his jaw stiff. A faint flush crept across my own face.
"Mind your business," I snapped.
"I am! And I'm sick of it, you know—oh wait! My superhero show's on!"
Perfect.
She raced back to the couch, humming.
I turned to him. "Why do you even bother saying you're 'back' when you come home like this, Mr. Oak?"
"Just do your job," he said coldly.
"Of course."
I kept my voice calm. Polite. Controlled. Like always.
I led him toward the bathroom, keeping my back to Nancy. Only once the door shut behind us did I drop the smile.
This wasn't my real father. His name was Mr. Oak—a senior officer of Black Vane, a covert organization that the world would dismiss as myth if they ever heard of it.
Black Vane didn't just kill. They replaced. Corrupt politicians, criminal CEOs, intelligence threats—they didn't vanish. They were overwritten.
I was one of them once.
From age sixteen, I was trained—surveillance, seduction, clean kills. By eighteen, I was their ghost. Their shadow. Their weapon.
But I ran.
And that made me prey.
They hunted me for two years. Anyone who deserts dies.
Mr. Oak found me. But instead of a bullet, he gave me a leash.
"If you work when I say, you live," he'd told me. A simple deal.
He'd raised me since I was eleven. Saved me from a world just as dark.
My biological father was a CEO. Powerful. And a murderer.
He stabbed my mother in front of me to marry a rich young widow, Yuneci, who came with twin teenage sons. One of them… violated me.
I ran. Lived in filth. Worked in bars. Laughed when drunk men asked me to dance.
Until one night, a masked man appeared behind them.
Mr. Oak.
He shattered bones like twigs and dragged me from that life.
His wife welcomed me like her own child. She was kind. Too kind for that world.
So they killed her.
A "mistake," they said.
That was when I stopped believing.
That was when I ran.
But the ghosts always find you.
Later that night, after dinner and Nancy's bedtime, Mr. Oak handed me a plain envelope. Inside: a folded document and an ID card.
"This is your next task, Ariadne," he said.
I stared at the name.
Caroline Garnier — Secretary, Velvér Fashion.
My throat clenched.
"David Charlotte…" I whispered. "My stepbrother?"
"You will work in his company. Get close. Stay alert."
"You're sending me to him?" I gritted out. "You know what he did to me."
He leaned closer.
"You have no choice."
I took a shaky breath and forced the words through clenched teeth.
"…Fine."
I'd already changed everything about myself to stay off Black Vane's radar—hair, voice, posture, even the rhythm of my steps.
Now I had to go back. Step into the company of the man who broke me.
This time, I wouldn't run.
This time, I'd be ready.