Alia then says, "I want money." The man smiled with a knife-edge calm—not a sweet smile at all; it was sharp, like shattered glass. He didn't wrap his arm around Alia's waist, but merely brushed his fingers under the light near her hip—like a controller, like one tallying accounts. He spoke slowly, his voice steel-cold:
"Money? I don't pay you in money. I pay you in—untouchable immunity, the power to erase existence, and the right to change people's lives. But if you need a price in 'money,' then tell me—what is your cost?"
Alia's voice was lower, smoother, and utterly cold:
"I don't want money. I want to watch Viktor burn. And Anashia—I want him to understand what he lost."
The man let out a slight sneer, his tone dripping with sarcasm:
"Do you know how cheap you actually are?"
The word cut through the silence of the room—it wasn't merely an insult, it was a calculated response. Alia showed no discomfort, simply meeting his gaze:
"Then think me cheap—whatever you give, I will use it for my needs. You command—I will execute."
The man laughed, shaking his head. Then, very slowly but clearly, he whispered into her ear—his voice brittle like glass:
"Good. But your job is clear—you are not a toy, you are a weapon. We won't return you. If you fail—you won't merely lose, your existence will not be found. Understood?"
That faintly marked smile slowly returned to the corner of Alia's lips. She raised her chin slightly and said:
"Spare the threats. I've already been willing to lose. Tell me what to do, and how ruthless I must be."
The man sat silent for a few more seconds—his golden eyes devoid of warmth, only calculation. Then, he conjured a puff of smoke into his palm—a strange, tiny device, glowing with blue light—an electronic signal for a new contract. He said:
"You sign, and this won't be merely your job—it will be your life. Your old name will be erased; a new name, a new life. Promise, and we begin."
Alia didn't flinch; she didn't look at the tiny paper trembling in her hand—she simply bowed her head as if about to sign and said slowly:
"Let me sign—I'm practiced at doing this."
The contract lines shimmered in the light, and the man spoke slowly, with a strange gentleness—as if laughing while imagining a final consequence:
"Then welcome, Black Violet. You are now discipline, you are now decision, you are now the fire."
Alia closed her eyes and uttered only one word—harsh, calm, and unstoppable:
"Begin."
The Illusion Breaks
The room is still dark.
The man with the golden eyes sits motionless on the chair.
But a sudden, different flash is in Alia's eyes.
She presses her fingerprint onto the contract device—but in that very moment, a tiny needle emerges from within her hand.
In the blink of an eye—in the gap of his gaze—she injects the golden-eyed man in the neck.
The man tries to speak in a cold voice—
"You…"
But the word doesn't finish. His body stiffens.
The light in his golden eyes dims.
Alia slowly leans forward and whispers into his ear:
"I didn't do this…
It was your visual illusion.
I injected you when I was sitting on your lap.
You thought you would control me—but Viktor is my love."
Fear, disbelief—emotions never seen before are in the man's eyes.
His lips tremble—no sound escapes.
Alia slowly stands up.
She pulls a small transmitter from within her black coat and drops it on the floor, crushing it with her foot.
Then she turns and walks towards the door.
"The game isn't over," she whispers.
Now my game begins. And Viktor… Viktor isn't my target. Viktor is my strength."
Behind her, the golden-eyed man slowly slumps with a vacant stare on the chair, and one by one, the points of light within the room fade out.
SCENE CUT — "Two Months Later: The Phoenix Rises"
LOCATION: Moscow City Center, Night
TIME: Two months after the "death" of the golden-eyed handler
DESCRIPTION:
The city is ablaze with bright lights in the cold Moscow air.
A few blocks from Red Square, a massive billboard glows atop a skyscraper—
Who is on the billboard?
Alia.
A luxurious coat draped over her shoulder, a diamond necklace around her neck, flawless red lipstick on her lips.
There is a strange radiance on her face—a blend of luxury and coldness.
The text below reads:
"ALIA: Beauty. Billionaire. Power."
CEO of Violet Industries. Now entering the Eurasian market.
The entire city stares.
People stand in the streets, taking pictures with their phones.
News channels broadcast headlines:
"The mystery girl becomes the most talked-about billionaire in Russia."
"Violet Industries: From shadows to stardom."
INT. TV INTERVIEW — NIGHT STUDIO
NEWS HOST (Russian, translated):
"Miss Alia, in just two months you've become Europe's fastest rising name. Who are you? Where do you come from?"
Alia, smiling:
"I've been in many places. Now I am only moving forward."
The camera focuses on her eyes—
There is another language in those eyes.
Those eyes say:
"You had forgotten me. Now I am before your eyes, but you will not recognize me."
INT. SECRET OFFICE — NIGHT
A man stands before a glass window, looking at the billboard—his face is not visible.
He says into the phone:
"Are you sure… it's her? Alia?"
The voice from the other end of the phone:
"Yes, sir. But she is now Alia Violet. And she is now unstoppable."
The man takes a deep breath.
The light reveals his face—
Anashia.
Yet, there is no hatred on his face.
Only a lost person seems to say:
"She is smiling. But I know—that emptiness within her has not vanished even today."
SCENE END
Narration (Voice Over):
"She died in the darkness. She was reborn in gold. And now… the world is hers to burn—or to save."
SCENE CUT — "In the Lion's Den"
LOCATION: VIKTOR'S PRIVATE OFFICE – Midnight, St. Petersburg
AMBIENCE: Cold, glass walls. Snow falling outside. Firelight flickers inside. Total silence—except for breath.
INT. VIKTOR'S OFFICE
On the top floor of the high-rise office, in a silent room surrounded by glass walls, Viktor sits behind a dark wooden desk.
Now, in his chair, on his lap—Alia.
Cold fire is in Alia's eyes.
That slow, confident smile is on Viktor's lips.
They stare at each other for a moment.
Then—a long kiss.
The kiss is not romantic.
It is a blend of challenge and acknowledgment.
As if both know—they are not friends, not enemies, but each other's shadow in this moment.
SCENE CUT — "The City That Froze for Her"
LOCATION: Seoul, South Korea
TIME: 9 PM, Winter wind is blowing
AMBIENCE: The city glitters; the skyline is dominated by Alia's face
EXT. SEOUL – GANGNAM CROSSING – NIGHT
Suddenly, a new billboard illuminates the city's largest screen.
On the billboard—a name, a face:
ALIA VIOLET
"Billionaire. Unknown. Unmatched."
People abruptly stop.
Eyes become fixed on that face.
The same question is in everyone's mind—"Who is she?"
ALIA:
A black silk gown, a light coat over her shoulder, a look of royalty.
Her physique is so flawless, she seems less like a human and more like a machine.
There is a glow in her eyes—one flicker is Bangladesh, the next is the harshness of Russia.
And on her face, that aristocratic cold smile—which makes it seem as though some ancient Greek queen has returned to the modern world. PEOPLE'S REACTIONS (Korean with English subtitles):
Her body looks like a robot!"
No... human, but completely different. Where did she come from?"
"Bangladeshi or Russian? There's fire in her eyes!"
Can anyone be this perfect? Or is it CGI?"
Is she actually human?"
INT. LIMO – CONTINUOUS
Alia looks at the screen from inside the car.
The bodyguards around her are silent.
But she is only looking at herself in the mirror.
A slight, faint smile is on her lips.
And gazing at her own reflection, she slowly says:
"You stopped when you saw me... But I left everything behind a long time ago."
INT. A SECRET MEETING ROOM — ANOTHER CITY
A few hackers are chatting together.
"Who is this girl? There are no records."
"It only says she is of Bangladeshi origin, but her language, her demeanor... flawless."
"The DNA doesn't match. It could be a 'Synthetic Project'. Or some experiment."
"She is not idle. She is fire. A fire that will burn... or purify."
FINAL NARRATION (Voice Over):
"She is like an old warrior, reborn with a new name.
Now, only she knows—who she is. And how this world will fall at her feet."