SCENE ENDS
(Next: Tokyo. A trap waiting. But she's already one step ahead.)
SCENE — "The Silent Watcher"
LOCATION: SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA – Rooftop
TIME: Same night as the billboard launch
EXT. ROOFTOP – SEOUL – NIGHT
Anashia stands on the roof of a luxurious Korean hotel.
He is wearing a grey coat, his hair is tied back, and there is a strange stillness in his eyes.
He looks down at the city below—right where the huge billboard is glowing.
Alia is on the billboard.
That familiar face.
But now in a completely unrecognizable form.
SFX: Phone rings.
Anashia slowly answers the phone.
VOICE ON PHONE (in Russian, subtitled):
"I'm calling from Russia. Monsieur, we still haven't found her.
There is no trace anywhere. She is... invisible."
Anashia's lip trembles slightly, but there is no fear in his voice.
"No problem."
He quietly hangs up the phone.
CAMERA: Slow pan to Anashia's eyes — his eyes are still fixed on that billboard.
Alia stands there, her name floating in the light:
ALIA VIOLET
A momentary silent wonder flickers in Anashia's eyes, then it merges back into cold emptiness.
The wind blows through his hair.
Anashia whispers without looking away:
"You didn't run away, Alia... You came back.
But you forgot—I am that mirror, where all your faces appear."
SCENE FADES TO BLACK.
NARRATION (low voice):
"She sees her. She remembers. But she waits.
Because some wars... are won long before the first shot is fired."
SCENE — "Remnants of Youth"
LOCATION: VIKTOR'S PRIVATE SUITE — St. Petersburg — Midnight
AMBIENCE: The city's scattered light is tempered by the glass walls outside; inside, the light is low—a soft blue shadow from the fireplace. Silence of the snow outside; inside, only the sound of breath and the presence of two people.
Viktor is trimming his hair in a small glass mirror in a corner—his hand holds a sharp barber's cutter. The hairs fall to the floor; the long golden locks are now short and cut. He finishes the cut steadily, not forcefully, and puts down the scissors. The fiery-gold of his hair is gone—it is now cold, straight, and contained.
Alia stands aside, her black coat removed; the thorn-like diamond necklace glitters around her neck. Viktor comes and slowly lies down beside her—his body is not unusually relaxed, but a creation of habit. He remains silent, then suddenly speaks in an abrupt voice, as if revealing an old photograph:
VIKTOR (Soft, filled with memory):
"Remember? You were twenty-three—I wore a black shirt, you wore a black dress. We were taking pictures. The camera was light, a blur was falling over those days."
Alia looks at him with a slight smile—the smile is habitually cold. A flash of a distant memory flickers in Viktor's eyes. He gently shakes the teacup in his hand, then slowly continues:
VIKTOR (Hidden pain in his eyes):
"I tried to lift you into my lap then—jokingly, like trying to shield you in a shadow. But you got angry. You ran away—you were going into the room. I... I opened the door first, but you didn't come back."
He pauses, then whispers—a sort of silent confession:
VIKTOR:
"I rushed after you. But do you know what I did? I didn't run—I just stood and watched. I didn't chase after you. I wanted to understand—was the decision you were making truly yours?"
No ripple appears in Alia's eyes—she leans slightly forward like a physical question:
ALIA (Cold, but irresistible):
"If you had run, I wouldn't have come back, Viktor. Because I had lost myself—and I understood that those who hold onto me want to shatter my existence. Did you... did you truly think I was just a little girl? One who would be scared and hurt by sitting on your lap?"
Viktor pauses for a moment. A strange mixed expression—yearning and sorrow—is on his face. He bends towards Alia and reaches out his hand, but does not touch her.
VIKTOR (Slowly):
"So you changed. That small anger of yours is now fire. I understood even then—you were never 'controllable' to me. You are your own controller—and that both frightens me, and I am... fascinated by it."
A half-smile is on Alia's lips—cold, devoid of inferiority. She glances at Viktor's cut hair, as if looking to see if these new locks bear any mark of Alia's past days. Then she slowly says:
ALIA:
"You didn't hold me then—you don't hold me now. But remember, Viktor—those who once tried to 'plunder' me will have their names written in history. And those who think they control me, they are merely my shadow."
Viktor laughs—a soft laugh, like a secret satisfaction. He falls silent again, and that long silence drifts between them—an unresolved understanding, a blend of love and enmity.The camera slowly ascends—outside the rooftop window, the cold city lights of St. Petersburg faintly gleam in the snow-fall. The boundaries of opportunity between Viktor and Alia, old wounds, and new goals—all shimmer together.
FADE OUT.
SCENE — "The Queen and The Watcher" LOCATION 1: Tokyo, Japan – Shibuya Square LOCATION 2: Viktor's Hidden Room, St. Petersburg
TIME: Same time, Night
EXT. SHIBUYA CROSSING – NIGHT
Light rain is falling softly, the city lights blending with the wet pavement.
On the massive billboard in Shibuya Squar
Alia stands in a regal outfit.
She wears a black silk dress of intricate design, holding a single Persian cat.
The cat glitters, like a spy from a kingdom.
On the billboard, Alia's face holds a cold, half-smile, half-declaration.
CUT TO:
INT. VIKTOR'S SECRET ROOM — NIGHT
Viktor stands in the dark room.
The live footage of the Tokyo billboard is displayed on the CCTV monitor.
A deep restlessness is in Viktor's eyes—
He takes the coffee cup placed on the table, sinking into worry.
Standing before the monitor, Viktor speaks in the silence of the room:
"You are there, on the billboard... and I am here, watching everything in secret.
Our one world—you are the exhibition, I am the shadow.
But don't forget, Alia, my eyes are always on you."
SCENE: "The Ache That Doesn't Sleep"
LOCATION: Anashia's Private Room, Seoul
TIME: Deep Night
AMBIENCE: The city outside is silent, moonlight falls onto his chest through the window gap
INT. ANASHIA'S BEDROOM – NIGHT
The room is dark, only moonlight touches the white bedsheet.
Anashia is lying down, alone. His shoulder trembles—but he makes no sound. Tears in his eyes, his lip bitten. As if trying to restrain himself.
Something is burning inside his chest—something that doesn't calm down, something that intensifies even with his breath.
His body is speaking, but his mind doesn't understand the language of those words. His hand clenches the sheet tightly, as if trying to hold down the fire within.
INNER MONOLOGUE (voice-over style):
"You don't know, Alia... what kind of pain this is.
It is not thirst—it is a curse.
The body doesn't just want a touch...
It wants—that place, where one can lose oneself...
And no one can find them."
A face floats in his eyes—Alia.
Some old touch, a forgotten night, a silent scream—
where the two of them were, like two planets, just before collision.
FLASHBACK — BRIEF GLIMPSE
Alia had held him down—slowly, fiercely, as if demanding.
Their breaths were bittersweet, and there was a war in their eyes.
A broken phrase had escaped Anashia's lips:
"Why do you... look at me like this?
As if even against my will... I become yours."
BACK TO PRESENT:
Anashia wraps the bedsheet tightly around his body.
His eyes are closed—but an invisible war rages within.
That boundary line between wanting and not wanting.
His lips tremble—the name comes out silently:
...Alia...
Tears again in his eyes.
The body is not quiet. Neither is the mind.