__________________
At Dhakal's villa, bodies lay scattered from the entrance gate to the living hall, the trail of corpses leading straight inside. Blood smeared across the marble floor and streaked the walls, painting them in a grotesque red. The air stank of iron and gunpowder.
Noah sat on the couch as if it were a throne, a pistol resting loosely in his gloved hand. A few droplets of blood stained his neck and the collar of his black shirt—barely visible unless you were close enough to die for noticing. His men flanked him, weapons ready, their silence heavier than the corpses on the ground. Ivan, meanwhile, leaned against a pillar, scrolling casually through his phone with a blood-stained hand, as if slaughter were background noise.
Kneeling before Noah was Umesh Dhakal. The once-powerful man was reduced to a broken figure. His face was swollen, lips split, blood streaming from his forehead. Bruises marred every inch of his body, his arms trembling violently, his breath shallow.
Noah tilted his head, a dangerous smirk curving his lips. His voice was calm, almost gentle—yet every word was sharpened steel."Tell me who's behind the drugs. Who's taking the girls. Give me a name, and I'll give you the mercy of a quick death."
Noah leaned forward, pressing the cold barrel of the gun against Umesh's forehead, eyes burning with murder. "I don't have patience in me, uncle."
Despite his ruined state, Umesh gave a broken laugh, flecks of blood spraying from his mouth. "No matter what I say, I'll die here. So do it. Kill me." His swollen eyes narrowed with mocking defiance. "You think I'll spill because a boy waves a gun at me? Listen, kid—you should be at home, doing homework. I thought Shadowveil's boss would be a monster… turns out he's just a brat."
For a moment, silence. Then Noah's shoulders began to shake. A low chuckle slipped out, growing louder, sharper—until the hall rang with his laughter. It wasn't joy. It wasn't madness. It was something worse, something unearthly. The sound crawled down spines like ice.
Even Ivan's scrolling froze. He slid his phone into his pocket, uneasy eyes fixed on Noah.
"Yah… don't laugh like that," he muttered, voice unusually tight. "You're scaring even us."
Noah didn't answer. He didn't even glance at Ivan, as if he were air. His gaze stayed locked on Umesh, laughter tapering into low, chilling chuckles.
"You're funny, uncle," he said at last, his tone disturbingly playful. "First time I've seen someone with the guts not to fear me at our first meeting. Interesting."
He rose from the couch with a fluid grace, a predator stretching its limbs, a smile carved into his face. "I think you'll be fun. But I wonder… how long will you last once the real torture begins?"
Turning his back without hesitation, Noah strode towards the villa's exit. His words fell like a verdict behind him. "Bring him to headquarters. Clean this place. Leave nothing behind."
"Yes, Young Master," his men answered in perfect unison.
The night swallowed Noah as he stepped out into the darkness, Ivan following close behind, still unsettled by the echo of that laughter.
----------------------
The next day, at TRENDS Company, Yunah sat at her desk, focused on her computer screen, when a message arrived: the new director, Chewang Sherpa, wanted to see her. She froze for a moment, then quietly pushed her chair back. Serena, sitting nearby, shot her a look — half-curious, half-concerned.
Yunah straightened her top, walked down the hall, and stopped before the office door, knocking at it softly.
A calm, composed voice answered, completely unlike the cold bark of the former director.
"Come in."
Yunah stepped inside and bowed respectfully.
"Hello, Director."
When she lifted her eyes, she was caught off guard. The man behind the desk was young — late twenties at most — with sharp features and a presence that was disarmingly gentle.
"So, you're Miss Yunah," he said, his voice carrying an ease that felt almost out of place in such a room. "I've been wanting to meet you. To apologize, on behalf of the company, for what happened under the previous director, Arav." A faint smile touched his lips. "It was long overdue. I hope you don't carry resentment towards the company.As you already know, Arav has been dealt with."
Yunah studied him carefully, questions burning in her mind. She let the silence linger before finally speaking.
"But… how did the company even find out? As far as I know, no one else was aware of the incident." Her tone was cautious, edged with suspicion.
Chewang leaned back in his chair, amusement flickering in his eyes.
"As expected from someone observant," he chuckled. "The company has its ways. Every employee leaves a trail — and every trail is recorded. Nothing escapes the eyes of TRENDS. Not even me." He tapped the desk lightly. "Someone, somewhere, is always watching. Our reputation is our spine, Miss Yunah. Anyone who threatens it… ends up like Arav." His smile never wavered, but his words carried a weight that silenced the room.
Yunah's chest tightened. She wanted to press further, but instinct told her not to. This company paid well, her recent raise was proof, and she had no desire to stir trouble by playing detective.
She lowered her gaze, masking her doubt with composure. "Then I should thank the company… for standing on the side of what's right. And thank you, Director, for approving my leave yesterday so I could shift at my new appartment."
"That's the least we can do," Chewang replied smoothly, opening a file on his desk as though the matter were settled. "If everything is clear, you may return to your work."
"Yes, Director." Yunah bowed once more, then turned and walked out, her mind still buzzing with unease.
---------------------
That evening, Yunah stepped out of her company's glass doors, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. Though she carried herself with elegance, her shoulders sagged under the weight of the day's exhaustion.
Just outside, her eyes caught sight of a woman kneeling, pleading desperately with the new director. Yunah slowed for a heartbeat, curiosity flickering, but dismissed it almost instantly. She couldn't see the woman's face and assumed it must be one of his lovers. Without a second glance, she turned away, her steps carrying her toward her new apartment.
Halfway down the street, a thought struck her—Noah.
Her chest tightened. Had he gotten any better?
She slipped her hand into her white sling bag, fingers brushing past her keycard before pulling out her phone. After a brief hesitation, she unlocked it and dialed his number, her thumb lingering on the call button as though the act itself might bridge the distance between them.
----------------------
At Shadowveil's Headquarter.
Noah was drenched in blood when Yunah's call came through. His black gloves dripped with crimson — Umesh's blood. Across the room, Umesh hung half-slumped, tied to the chair, his right hand missing. The grotesque sight was made worse by the fact that Noah's men were desperately treating him — not out of mercy, but to keep him alive long enough to endure more. Blood spattered the floor, the walls, the smell thick and suffocating. Umesh had already slipped into unconsciousness from the agony.
Ashish, ever steady at Noah's side, lit a cigarette and placed it between his fingers. Noah inhaled deeply, exhaling smoke through the corner of his lips, as though severing a man's arm was no different than cutting bread. His calm, unblinking eyes held no remorse.
The door creaked open. Ivan stepped inside, clutching Noah's phone. One glance at Umesh's mangled body and Ivan's stomach lurched — he turned, vomiting on the spot before forcing himself to stumble forward and handed the phone over.
Noah clicked his tongue in disapproval, shaking his head at Ivan's weakness. His gaze dropped to the glowing caller ID. The screen read one word that softened his entire face: Baby. A rare, genuine smile touched his bloodstained lips.
"Looks like someone missed me," he murmured, almost to himself, before walking away from the carnage, cigarette in hand.
He answered with a voice so gentle it was unrecognizable — a voice reserved for Yunah alone.
"Hello, Di."
Every man in the room froze. Their eyes widened, disbelief etched across their faces. This… this wasn't the Noah they knew. To them, he was a monster. But now, his back looked almost human.
On the other end, Yunah's voice came soft, worried. "How are you? Did your fever go down?"
Noah leaned against the window, smoke curling around his face, a smile tugging at him.
"Mm. It did. I'm better now." His eyes gleamed with a warmth none of his men had ever seen.
There was a pause. Then Yunah asked quietly, almost shyly, "So… when are you coming?"
"Tomorrow, maybe," Noah said, his gaze drifting out into the cold, starless night. He hesitated, lips parting as if the words weighed more than any blade he had ever held.
"Di…" His voice cracked softer than a whisper. "I want to come see you...now."