SCENE: Alia Returns Home – Moscow Night
Setting: Moscow, late night
Location: Alia's private estate, high-security mansion
Mood: Cold, dark, powerful — the night pulses with quiet tension
The black limo pulls up slowly to the grand iron gates.
The Sirena Estate stands tall beyond — all glass and marble, glowing faintly under the moonlight.
Two dozen armed bodyguards stand at attention. Earpieces in. Eyes alert.
CCTV cameras shift silently. Drones hover above.
A guard speaks softly into his mic:
Guard (into mic):
"Target has arrived. Sirena is home."
The gates open slowly, hissing against the silence.
The limo rolls through.
INT. FRONT OF THE ESTATE – NIGHT
The car door opens.
Alia steps out.
She's dressed in a long black trench coat, heels echoing on the marble steps.
Hair flowing, eyes unreadable. The wind picks up.
She looks up — the grand house looming like a silent witness to her legacy.
She takes a deep breath. Her breath fogs in the cold.
One of the lead guards approaches, lowers his head respectfully.
Lead Guard:
"Dobro pozhalovat' domoy, Ms. Alia."
("Welcome home, Ms. Alia.")
She gives a curt nod, her face unreadable.
INT. SIRENA ESTATE – FOYER
The double doors open.
Warm golden light spills out.
A massive chandelier sways above. Marble floors gleam.
Her heels click slowly as she enters.
Every corner is spotless.
Too clean.
Too empty.
She walks slowly, dragging her fingers across a grand piano by the wall.
Her reflection stares back from the polished black surface.
Alia (softly, to herself):
"So much silence… after so much war."
She walks past the hall where memories once echoed —
children's laughter, arguments with Victor, a thousand whispers of the past.
EXT. OUTSIDE THE HOUSE – SAME TIME
The guards reposition.
Two black SUVs roll up silently behind the limo.
Inside: tactical teams on standby — just in case.
One guard lights a cigarette, glances up at the house.
Guard 2 (to himself):
"They say she killed seven men in Seoul. Barehanded."
Guard 3 (smirks):
"And now she sleeps in silk sheets. Life is strange."
INT. ALIA'S PRIVATE ROOM – NIGHT
Alia enters her bedroom.
Velvet curtains sway. A fire crackles.
She removes her coat slowly.
Underneath — a black silk nightgown. Her body bears scars. Not many have seen them.
She sits at her vanity, slowly removing her earrings.
Her eyes find her reflection.
Tired. Powerful. Lonely.
Alia (whisper):
"This city thinks I came back for power.
But I came back… for silence."
She closes her eyes.
The sound of rain begins outside.Alia stands, slightly trembling, her eyes a deep sea of pain and love.
Suddenly, Victor silently comes and stands beside her.
In his eyes, there's a warmth — quiet but profound — revealing the depth of a hidden love.
Victor slowly wraps his arm around Alia's waist.
Feeling his presence, she leans gently against his chest.
He lowers his head, bringing his lips close to hers —
And then, a kiss. Deep, silent, filled with a thousand unspoken words, lost memories, sorrow, and hope.
Victor (softly, very close):
"I've always been by your side…
And I always will be, for as long as I live."
Alia closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and whispers, resting her head on his shoulder:
Alia:
"Please… never leave me again."
Victor kisses her again, gently reassuring her.
His fingers disappear into her hair, soft and slow.
The darkness around them seems to fade away,
Only the sweet stream of love remains.
Victor doesn't remove his hand from her waist.
Alia's eyes are half-closed, her breath slightly unsteady.
He slowly lifts her into his arms, as if the weight of the world has been given to him to carry.
Alia nestles against his chest and whispers again:
Alia:
"Promise me… you'll never leave..."
Victor smiles gently, holds her tighter,
and softly brushes her cheek with his fingers.
He walks slowly toward the bed.
When they reach it, he gently places her down.
They sit together, close, bodies touching —
A deep silence begins to weave a bridge between their hearts.
Alia rests her head on Victor's chest and closes her eyes.
Victor places a peaceful kiss on her forehead, silently reminding her —
"You're safe here."
In the soft light of the room, their shadows blend,
And in the sweetness of silence, love speaks without words.
The room glows softly. The curtains sway gently in the cold breeze.
Alia and Victor sit side by side on the bed.
Victor is quiet.
His eyes hold a depth — and something unsaid.
Alia turns slightly toward him —
And suddenly, Victor begins unbuttoning his shirt.
Alia (startled):
"What… what are you doing?!"
Victor smiles softly and lowers his gaze.
He removes the shirt — and the light casts shadows on his toned abs.
Alia pauses, her eyes fixed on his chest.
Alia (with a shy smile):
"You've made your body like this and expect me not to laugh?"
She slowly reaches out and gently touches his chest.
Alia (teasingly):
"Aren't you embarrassed, showing off like this?"
Victor chuckles, leans in closer.
Victor (softly):
"There's no shame in front of you, Alia.
You loved me knowing everything — even the worst parts."
Alia turns her face away, blushing.
Victor gently places a hand on her shoulder.
They sit in silence —
Only the sound of hearts beating between them.
Victor leans in again…
The warmth of his body, the sound of his breath — it creates a quiet intimacy.
Suddenly, Alia starts laughing softly.
First, a small giggle… then louder.
She holds her knees, trying to control herself.
Victor raises an eyebrow.
Victor (curious):
"What's so funny?"
Alia covers her mouth, tears in her eyes from laughter.
Alia (gasping between laughs):
"Victor… your pants… hahaha…
Your shorts slipped down a little!"
Victor quickly looks down —
His shorts had shifted a bit, probably while he was taking his shirt off.
Victor (laughing with embarrassment):
"Hey! These traitorous shorts!"
Alia buries her face in a pillow, still laughing.
Alia:
"You try to be romantic…
And your shorts ruin the mood!"
Victor laughs, grabs a pillow, and tosses it at her playfully.viktor :Victor (smirking, teasingly):
"Seeing a deadly serious girl like you laugh like that...
I think I'm falling in love with you all over again."
Alia lifts her head —
Tears in her eyes, a smile on her lips, and love in her heart.
She's still giggling, wiping her eyes, her face buried in the pillow as she laughs like she might cry.
Victor's failed "gentle romance" attempt really was hilarious.
Victor, though he laughs at first, suddenly turns serious.
He opens the side drawer and pulls something out.
A condom packet. He holds it up, eyes fiery.
Victor (in a low, mock-threatening tone):
"If you laugh one more time... I'll be forced to use this."
Alia pauses mid-laugh.
Alia:
"My poor Victor's embarrassed! My sweet husband is blushing!"
And then — bursts into even louder laughter.
Alia (laughing):
"You're literally threatening me... with romance!"
Victor (narrowing his eyes, smirking):
"Alia… you fight in the shadows.
But I lose every time — to your smile."
Her laughter slowly fades.
She gently takes his hand and lowers the packet.
Alia (softly):
"I laugh… because I feel safe with you.
When you touch me, I forget all the pain."
Victor (quietly):
"There's nothing sexier in the world than your smile.
You are my joy... and my fire."
They look into each other's eyes.
The laughter fades — and silence takes over.
Not empty silence — but something full, deep, magnetic.
Victor pulls her closer.
This kiss — it's no longer playful.
It's deep. Slow. Unstoppable.
Soft light glows. A hint of perfume floats in the air.
Alia looks calm now — a little shy, her cheeks flushed.
Victor's eyes burn with a mischievous fire.
He slowly opens a small box beside the bed…
And pulls out a red lace ribbon.
He looks down at the ribbon, then slowly back at Alia.
Victor (soft voice, wicked smile):
"You laugh, you run…
But tonight — I'm going to tie your laughter with this."
Alia's eyes widen!
She steps back, pulling the blanket over her.
Alia (laughing, startled):
"No, no, no, Victor! That red ribbon means danger!"
She slides to the edge of the bed, like she's ready to run.
Victor twirls the ribbon around his finger as he steps forward.
Victor (whispering):
*"You won't escape, Alia.
This ribbon isn't just an accessory…
It's revenge. Revenge for laughing at my pants!"Alia throws a pillow at him, still laughing.
Alia:
"You're crazy! I'm a siren — no one can tie me down!"
Victor:
*"You're a siren, true…
But tonight, I'm the sailor…
who's diving willingly into your spell."
Alia quiets down.
She knows… this isn't just teasing anymore.
Victor's eyes — they burn with love, with desire… and something deeper.
She exhales slowly.
Alia (softly):
"You don't understand, Victor…
No matter how much I run…
I feel safest inside your eyes."
Scene: Late night. Bedroom. A touch of playful tension.
Alia stands at the edge of the bed, pillow in hand, a mock-serious look on her face.
Alia (frowning slightly):
"No. You're not coming closer. I said no, and I mean it."
Victor pauses.
A wicked smile on his lips, a playful glint in his eyes.
In a dramatic low voice:
Victor:
"Not coming closer? Fine. I give you my word."
He slowly backs away…
But keeps talking.
Victor:
*"Alia says I can't come closer.
But..." (pauses)
*"What if a little mouse squeaks like a kitten? What am I supposed to do then?"
Alia gasps.
Alia (wide-eyed):
"Did you just call me a little mouse?!"
Victor takes a step forward, hand in pocket, the red ribbon spinning in the other.
Victor:
"A little mouse… but dangerous.
One eye shows love… the other, fire.
And I'm the cat — ready to burn in that fire."
Alia stands frozen for a moment.
Then smiles softly.
Alia (quietly):
*"If you're the cat…
Then I won't run this time.
I'll curl up in your arms and fall asleep."
Victor's expression softens.
He steps close and gently takes her hand.
Victor (whispers):
"Then come… sleep beside this cat tonight.
And don't cry anymore…
Just smile — for me."
Alia closes her eyes, resting her head against his chest.
Scene: Late night | By the window
The curtain sways gently in the cool breeze.
Alia stands by the window, her thoughts scattered —
Lost in the lights of the city, the Moscow streets, and the turmoil within her.
Her eyes are distant, her lips silent.
Victor slowly walks up behind her —
In his hand: the red lace ribbon.
Without saying a word, he softly begins to wrap the ribbon over her eyes.
Alia jumps slightly.
Alia (quietly):
"Victor… what are you doing?"
Victor says nothing, ties the ribbon gently.
Alia (a bit breathless, confused):
"I… I can't see anything!"
Victor's voice lowers into a mysterious, serious tone — right in her ear.
Victor (whispers):
"Sometimes… not seeing is better.
Because some things…
are only meant to be felt — with the heart."
Alia's breathing grows heavier.
She stands still, blindfolded —
Completely surrendering herself into his care.
Alia (softly):
"You're making me blind…
Aren't you afraid?"
Victor:
*"You're not blind.
You're trusting me.
That... is love."
Victor gently takes her hand.
Victor (quietly):
"Come… tonight, you won't see.
You'll feel —
My touch, my breath… my love."
Alia trembles slightly.
Her lips quiver.
But there's a calm smile on her face.
They are together —
Safe. Close. Warm.
The soft scent in the air, the dim light melting across their skin.
Victor holds her hand, guiding her gently —
And in his touch, she feels a storm, not of lust — but of soul-deep intimacy. Flashback The Night That Never Healed
That night from childhood still burns inside Alia like an open wound.
A broken house.
Darkness.
The smell of gunpowder and blood.
In one corner sat Victor—injured himself, yet holding two children tightly.
One of them was Alia, her trembling eyes fixed on him.
The other—Anashia, breathing faintly, blood on his forehead.
Alia did not know it then—
that the lives of these three had just been bound together by a single thread.
"Are we going to die?"
Alia's voice shook.
Victor looked at her.
That gaze did not belong to a child—
it was the gaze of someone who had already seen war.
"No. You will live. I'm here."
Anashia slowly opened his eyes.
He tightened his grip on Victor's hand.
"Victor… don't ever let go of Alia."
Victor said nothing.
He only nodded.
Years passed.
They grew up.
But that night—
none of them ever forgot it.
In a golden field, under the light of a late afternoon sun—
Victor sat quietly.
Anashia sat beside him, exhausted, but alive like a surviving warrior.
At a distance stood Alia.
There was no peace in her eyes—only questions.
Anashia smiled faintly.
"So… we survived, didn't we?"
Victor replied,
"Yes. But not everyone survives the same way."
Alia did not yet understand—
that one day, those words would tear her life apart.
More years later—
a Moscow night.
Alia was no longer the frightened child.
She had grown up. She had grown strong.
Yet in front of her stood two men—
Victor…
and Anashia.
Two different flames burned in their eyes.
Both held weapons.
Both were her past.
Alia's breath caught.
"You both saved my life…"
she whispered.
"Then why is it like this now?"
Victor remained silent.
A red glint flickered in Anashia's eyes.
In that moment, Alia understood—
they had survived together as children,
but grown into very different people.
The Moscow night grew heavier.
Wind swept across the rooftop,
yet Alia felt as if she could barely breathe.
Victor took a step forward.
His voice was low, controlled.
"Alia, don't listen to him."
Anashia laughed.
It wasn't laughter—
it was the sound of bitterness accumulated over years.
"He still thinks he's protecting you,"
Anashia said.
"Just like he did when we were children."
Something shattered inside Alia's mind.
That night.
Victor's hands.
Anashia's voice.
Everything came rushing back at once.
"Stop,"
Alia said.
Her voice trembled—but her eyes did not.
"I'm not a child anymore."
Victor froze.
For the first time.
Anashia's eyes narrowed.
He lowered his weapon slightly toward Alia.
"You don't know, Alia,"
he said slowly,
"what he wanted to turn you into."
Something trembled deep inside her chest.
"What do you mean?"
Anashia took a deep breath.
The weight of old scars filled his voice.
"Those experiments…
you didn't just survive them.
Victor made sure
you were chosen."
Darkness fell over Victor's eyes.
"Enough,"
he said.
Alia had never heard this voice from him before.
"So it was all a lie?"
Alia looked at Victor.
"You knew everything… and still never told me?"
For a moment—
the city went silent.
Victor slowly lifted his head.
"I wanted you to have a normal life," he said.
"I didn't want you to become like me."
Alia's eyes filled with tears.
But she did not cry.
"You decided for me."
Those words hit Victor like a bullet.
Anashia spoke calmly.
"And I wanted you to know the truth."
Alia closed her eyes.
One second.
Two seconds.
Then she stepped forward.
She stood between them.
"When we were children,"
Alia said,
"I trusted you both."
She looked at Victor.
"One of you protected me."
Then at Anashia.
"And one of you tried to show me the truth."
Her hands trembled—
but she steadied herself.
"But now,"
Alia whispered,
"I won't let anyone decide my life for me."
Victor stepped back.
For the first time—he lost.
Anashia remained silent.
The red glow in his eyes faded.
"What will you do now?"
he asked.
Alia looked out at the city.
Light and darkness—intertwined.
"I will find myself," she said.
"And when I return—"
She looked at both of them.
"You will no longer control me."
She turned away.
And walked off.
Behind her remained two men—
one a shadow,
one a wound.
And between them—
an emptiness.
Its name was Alia.