Ethan slipped the loading card gently into his pocket, making sure it wouldn't bend. Even though it was just a card, it felt strangely alive warm against his palm, glowing faintly as if breathing. He exhaled and looked forward again, letting the quiet night swallow him whole.
A few steps ahead, a public bench sat near the walkway, half-hidden under the soft spill of a streetlamp. It looked empty, inviting, peaceful. Ethan made his way toward it and settled down with a faint sigh of relief.
The moment he leaned back, the wind swept across him again cool, crisp, and clean. It tugged lightly at his shirt, brushed through his hair, and carried with it the scents of asphalt, night flowers, and distant street food. The world felt slow. Calm. Almost unreal.
He tilted his head upward.
The sky above was open and clear, scattered with stars that shimmered faintly like diamonds on black velvet. They were tranquil. Serene. The kind of sky that made people feel small and safe at the same time. Ethan found himself breathing easier as he stared at them, letting the stress slowly melt from his shoulders.
For a long moment, everything was silent.
No footsteps. No honking cars. No shouting voices. Just the whisper of the wind and the faint glow of city lights in the distance.
Eventually, after sitting still for what felt like ten minutes, he pulled out his phone again. The screen reflected in his eyes cold blue against the warm night. He unlocked it and opened his browser, his fingers moving out of habit more than intention.
He typed into the search bar:
"Modern houses for sale like a middle-class estates."
His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment as he thought about it. Building a house from scratch was an idea he'd considered earlier, but that would take too long. A year at best. Maybe more. He needed something sooner. Something comfortable for his mom and sister. Somewhere safe. Somewhere far from Adam Vale's reach.
Mom can never know where this money is coming from…
He sighed quietly.
He couldn't explain it to her.
He couldn't sit her down and say,
"Hi Mom, a system living in my head is giving me money."
She would call the police, the hospital, or both.
So he needed a house that looked normal. Not too big, not too flashy. Something that didn't scream "I am secretly a millionaire with a mysterious advantage."
His thumb scrolled slowly.
Houses. Condos. Duplexes. Small villas. Mansions disguised as townhomes. The city never ran out of options. But nothing seemed right. Some were too small. Some too expensive. Some too suspicious-looking. Some would raise far too many questions.
Then he saw it.
A villa.
He paused.
It wasn't too big. It wasn't too tiny. It had a clean, modern look white walls, dark frames, natural wood accents. The yard was modest but well kept. The windows were tinted just enough for privacy without looking like he was trying to hide something. It looked casual, comfortable, elegant.
Perfect.
The kind of home you'd find in a respectable middle-class estate. The type that fit in without drawing attention. The type his mom would call decent, not ridiculous. Exactly what he needed.
He tapped the listing.
The pictures flipped across his screen:
A simple living room with wooden floors.
A clean kitchen with marble countertops.
Three bedrooms.
A small study.
A backyard with a mango tree.
Ethan's eyes softened.
"Perfect," he whispered.
Until he reached the price tag.
His screen froze in his hand.
"…What?"
$20,000,000
He blinked.
Twenty. Million. Dollars.
He scrolled again.
Twenty million.
No, it wasn't a typo.
The entire villa looked like a normal $2 million home. He squinted and read through the full description again.
"Stealth Villa…? What the hell is that?"
He scrolled.
Apparently, it was a luxury villa that looked plain on purpose.
A house made to blend in but crafted with insane materials:
• Doors made of five-million-dollar imported wood
• Temperature-regulating walls
• Hidden reinforcement layers
• Silent flooring
• Impact-resistant windows
A house that looked like nothing but cost a fortune.
Ethan leaned back against the bench and rubbed his face.
"Of course… why not? Because normal houses don't exist in this economy."
His bank account flashed in his mind.
$3,100,000
Not even close.
Not even half.
He closed his eyes.
The wind blew again, gentle and cool, brushing away the heat of frustration from his forehead.
He rested his phone on his chest and let his head tilt backward to the sky again.
The stars hadn't changed.
The world was still quiet.
But his thoughts felt heavier.
He wanted to give his family comfort. Safety. Stability. Something they deserved. But every step he took forward revealed another wall waiting to greet him.
He breathed deeply.
Not defeated.
Just tired.
He rested there, letting the city breathe with him.
Meanwhile at Downtown District
A completely different atmosphere hung in the air.
The abandoned warehouse was cold and heavy with tension. Dust coated the floor, and broken windows let in streaks of moonlight that looked like claws dragged across the ground. The old building creaked softly with every shift of the wind.
In the center of the room, a man sat tied to a metal chair.
Bruised. Bloody. Silent.
His eyes stared straight ahead, defiant despite the swelling and purple marks covering half his face.
Standing before him was a girl who did not match the warehouse at all.
Lena Park.
Cute. Beautiful. Soft-featured.
But her eyes…
Her eyes were cold enough to kill.
Her guards stood around her—three men, well-built and alert, each wearing black tactical gear and weapons strapped to their sides.
Lena tilted her head slightly as she regarded the tied man.
Her voice came out soft. Almost gentle.
"Who sent you?"
The man didn't answer.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't spit.
He just smiled.
A bloody, mocking smile.
Lena's expression darkened.
She didn't blink.
Didn't look away.
She stepped closer, her heels echoing loudly across the warehouse floor.
"Last chance," she whispered.
But the man only kept smiling.
Then
The world cracked.
A single gunshot tore through the silence.
BANG.
The bullet pierced straight through the man's skull.
His smile vanished.
His body went limp.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then all three guards reacted instantly.
"Miss, move!"
"Sniper!"
"Protect her!"
They rushed around Lena, forming a tight barrier, lifting her off her feet as they sprinted toward the exit. Lena, shocked for only a heartbeat, steadied herself as they ran.
Her mind raced.
A sniper…? Someone was watching us…
Someone professional enough to take the shot through a warehouse window from who-knows-where. Someone who wanted silence. Someone who didn't want the man in the chair to talk.
They pushed into the night, fleeing the warehouse and disappearing into the maze of dark streets.
Meanwhile Two Buildings Away
On the rooftop of a quiet apartment complex, a man lay flat on his stomach. His sniper rifle rested on the ledge, barrel still warm from the shot. The night wind tugged at his jacket, but he didn't move.
He watched Lena and her guards rush out of the warehouse.
He watched them vanish around a corner.
He smirked.
Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
A soft screen glow lit up his face.
A notification blinked.
Next Target: Ethan Iver
The sniper chuckled under his breath.
"Looks like tonight's going to be busy."
He closed the app, dismantled his rifle with practiced ease, and slipped into the shadows of the rooftop.