In one of the dimly lit alleys, where the summer breeze whispered softly and stirred emotions hidden deep within, a paper bag swayed lightly in the hands of a figure—a lady, or perhaps something more ethereal, a mischievous sprite, taking delicate steps under the moonlight. Aurora had a childish smile playing on her lips, her blue eyes twinkling like stars, and strands of black hair fluttering on the horizon. With each step she took, her white dress swayed gracefully around her, as the brown shoes she wore tapped lightly against the alley's ground.
She moved with an almost innocent, playful air, sensing the shadows gathering around her. A fleeting glance, barely noticeable, revealed the presence of something—or someone—lurking behind her. Tilting her head just a little, she smiled softly and, with a teasing tone, murmured, "Am I that attractive?"
With that, she continued her way to the small, modest home she called her own, not far from the alley. The shadows, however, didn't remain behind for long, whispering softly as they followed her.
Aurora ascended the steps to her front door, gently easing it open, her hair still dancing in the breeze. She tossed the keys onto the ground carelessly, a playful glint in her eyes, before heading to the kitchen with her bags in hand. Her dress billowed with each step, and her carefree demeanor made her seem like a child discovering the world around her.
Without a moment's hesitation, she tore open the paper bag she carried, her curiosity overflowing like a child eager for a treat. Pulling out a spoon from the kitchen drawer, she made her way to the black sofa, bathed in moonlight, its shadows stretching across the living room, right in front of the door. She plopped herself onto the couch, the spoon digging into the ice cream she had bought. Her focus was unwavering, her eyes trained on the door, waiting—expecting.
Seconds ticked by, her anticipation growing, until finally, the sound of the door's lock moved ever so slightly, barely a whisper, as if someone was trying to sneak in. Aurora's excitement bloomed, her pulse quickening as she awaited the identity of this intruder who dared enter her space.
And then the door creaked open. Three men stepped inside, their bulky figures silhouetted by the dim light from the hallway, their eyes glowing with desire, their intentions clear.
Aurora, unbothered, took another spoonful of ice cream, as though nothing was out of the ordinary. The men exchanged glances, their eyes lingering on her slender figure, the hunger in their gaze unmistakable. The air between them was thick with unspoken promises.
One of them swaggered forward, his grin wide and lewd. "Well, hello there, darling," he drawled. "You seem to be alone tonight."
The others chuckled, their laughter low and crude, and their eyes never leaving Aurora.
With an air of mock innocence, she placed her ice cream down and, without a hint of fear, responded, "Oh, do you want to hurt me? But why?"
The man stepped closer, his eyes dark with lust. "You seem... appetizing in ways I can't ignore."
Aurora, her movements swift and precise, closed the gap between them, leaning in almost imperceptibly, her tongue brushing lightly against his neck. "Do it if you can," she whispered.
The man's breath caught in his throat. Something in the atmosphere shifted. It was subtle at first, like a creeping shadow curling around them all. Fear gripped the men, and in a heartbeat, their faces paled. The room felt colder, darker. And then, like a crushing wave, the sound of their necks snapping echoed in the silent room.
One by one, the men crumpled to the floor, their bodies lifeless, as if the very darkness had devoured them. It came without warning, without a sound, like a fog descending suddenly on a quiet night—suffocating and consuming.
Aurora stood amongst the fallen bodies, her expression neutral, even curious. She nudged one of the men's bodies with her foot as she walked past, looking for her phone. It rested on the table next to her melting ice cream. She picked it up, dialed a number, and placed the phone on speaker as she continued to enjoy her treat.
"Lazy Uncle" flashed on the screen.
She waited, her gaze still on the bodies strewn across the floor, until the phone clicked.
At a nearby bar, two men sat side by side, sipping their drinks in silence. The sharp ring of a phone pierced the stillness, and the name "Troubles" appeared on the screen. The younger man beside the phone's owner chuckled softly, sensing the tension in the air. The man, a seasoned figure in his mid-thirties, with a strong jawline, tanned skin, brown eyes, and black hair, sighed. A look of reluctant concern mixed with indifference spread across his face as he answered the call.
Aurora's voice came through, smooth and unbothered. "Time for cleaning," she said, as she casually enjoyed her ice cream.
Then she hung up.
The man's expression soured. "That mischief-maker," he muttered under his breath. He began to gather his things from the table, as his companion, a younger, muscular man in his twenties with sharp blue eyes and blonde hair, laughed and teased, "Send my regards to my sister."
With a dismissive wave, the older man rose, his air of confidence never wavering as he made his way out.
Back at the house, Aurora finished her ice cream and approached the living room window. She took one last look at the bodies littering the floor, her eyes scanning over them before she gracefully leapt through the window, landing soundlessly in the alley behind her house.
She walked through the shadows, heading toward the neighboring garden, her movements light and graceful. In the distance, she noticed a shadow approaching—a familiar presence.
As they passed each other, neither acknowledged the other. Their gazes never met, nor did they exchange any recognition. They simply moved in silence, Aurora toward the garden, her uncle toward the house.
Without drawing attention, he slipped inside through the window, his eyes catching the grisly scene. Frozen for a moment, he muttered, "No blood, no mistake. Cleaner than necessary."
He knelt beside one of the bodies, grabbing the head and muttering to himself, "How am I going to clean this, I wonder?"
With a practiced hand, he moved the bodies closer together, preparing to clear the scene.
Meanwhile, Aurora, sitting in the garden, flipped through the pages of a black notebook she had found a moments ago. Her eyes danced across the words, a soft smile playing on her lips as she read, her gaze occasionally lifting, as if feeling someone's presence watching her.
Standing off in the shadows, a tall figure observed her quietly, hidden from view, with the kind of stealth that spoke of years of experience.
A wicked smile curved on Aurora's lips as she continued reading, her voice barely a murmur, "Hmm."
Brushing strands of hair away from her face each time the refreshing night breeze blew, Aurora immersed herself in the world of the notebook, which told a story of love. Love, or to love, had always been a question in Aurora's mind since she was young. What meanings lay hidden behind that word? Aurora, who had truly experienced love but refused to accept its implications or carry its burdens in her existence, found the words shining brightly on the pages of the notebook.
But then, the ringing of the phone shattered the calm surrounding her, the noise creeping in despite the surveillance that loomed in the background. The phone rang with a soft tone that momentarily rattled Aurora until she saw the caller ID—"My Little Rabbit," signaling it was her younger brother.
Without hesitation, she closed the notebook and held it in her hand as she answered the phone. "Joseph, have you missed me?"
A radiant smile spread across her captivating face as Joseph, the twenty-year-old boy who had been with her uncle at the bar earlier, sat on the steps in front of Aurora's house. "I'm on your side, but no one's here."
Aurora smiled and replied, "I'm on my way back." Then she hung up and began walking toward her house with grace, her movements light and fluid. She headed toward her brother, leaving the observer to follow silently behind her.
There was no need for further explanation—she was confident in the safety of her home. The greatest danger she feared was herself.
Aurora reached her home quickly and found her younger brother, towering over her with his height. She delicately touched his strands of blonde hair, a soft touch that felt almost maternal. "I'm here," she said.
Joseph, always the mischievous one, pounced on his sister and embraced her with a wide grin. Aurora took his hand, guiding him as they entered the house—her uncle had repaired and cleaned it recently.
"You crave food from my hands, don't you, chef?" Aurora teased.
Joseph nodded enthusiastically, and they both entered the kitchen.
Joseph, a chef with his own restaurant, always showed enthusiasm toward Aurora's cooking.
Meanwhile, Aurora continued her studies while honing her skills for a profession in killing. After all, she was the heir to the "Al Batris" family, a lineage steeped in shadow and blood.
Joseph sat at the kitchen table while Aurora meticulously chopped vegetables. They exchanged playful banter, enjoying the familiar rhythm of their interaction. Eventually, Joseph broke the casual silence, his voice turning curious.
"Have you visited the estate recently?" he asked.
Aurora paused, the question striking a chord. "No, it's been a long time. Mom and Dad would be furious. What chaos."
Joseph, ever the joker, mimicked their father's movements with exaggerated flair. "You disappear and reappear suddenly. Are we playing hide and seek here?"
Aurora chuckled, shaking her head at her brother's antics. Their conversation continued until the early hours of the morning, as sleep eventually overcame them. They sprawled across the couch, exhausted like children after a long day of play. The weight of their family's legacy hung heavy, but there was no need to remind them that they were the pampered children of the Al Batris family—offspring of assassins who controlled half of the northwest of the Kingdom of Mor. The other half was ruled by the Selvedor family. These two families were locked in an eternal struggle for dominance over the shadows of the kingdom.
The next morning, at eight o'clock, the sound of knocking on the door startled the quiet. Aurora rarely had visitors outside of her uncle and brother, but she recognized the knocker immediately. Without hesitation, she instructed Joseph to stay in the kitchen with his back to the door. He, unlike her, was well-known to everyone who shared their bloodline. Aurora, on the other hand, kept herself hidden—like a ghost in the criminal underworld. Her name echoed in whispers, but her face remained a mystery.
She opened the door gently, as if just waking up, to find a man she didn't recognize. He wasn't hard to spot—tall, tanned, with sharp features and black hair, probably in his mid-to-late twenties. He smiled widely as she opened the door, and he immediately began speaking in a rapid stream, as though he couldn't wait to unload his words.
"Hello there, Dear. You found a notebook last night, didn't you?"
Aurora's voice was soft but steady as she replied, "Yes, that's right."
The man grinned, undeterred, and continued speaking, "Hello, I'm the first one who found the notebook before you. I was appointed by the program to inform you, the second one. We represent the honored guests for the 'Buds' Show. I believe you've heard of it before?"
Aurora's eyes narrowed slightly. She barely contained a sigh, the man's incessant chatter almost unbearable. But the atmosphere shifted quickly, and she couldn't help herself. "Show? Am I going to participate in some TV show? Oh, how exciting!"
She jumped around playfully like a child, grinning. "When... when do I attend?"
The man's smile widened. "You need to come to this address, sign in, and then you'll participate." He handed her a piece of paper, and Aurora looked at it, still smiling with genuine interest.
"Alright, I'll let the crew inform you about the details when you arrive. Goodbye," he said, before turning to leave.
Aurora closed the door behind him and walked toward her brother, who seemed visibly irritated by the visitor's nonsense. Aurora placed the address on the table and asked, "Isn't this one of the Salvador family's buildings?"
Joseph stared at the paper for a moment before replying, "Yes, that's right."
Aurora's lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Well, tell Dad that I'm going to participate in a show with Salvador's sons," she teased, her fingers pointing at the man who had just left.
As the stranger disappeared down Aurora's alley, he muttered to himself, "Why would such a mischievous girl find the notebook? Just slang... or else I would have really killed her."
His words, though quiet, echoed in the air as he walked away with a confident swagger.
Hector strides down the street with an air of pride, as if the world belongs to him. His eyes never stray from the path ahead, not once glancing down at the ground beneath his feet. He quickly disappears from the alley outside Aurora's house, heading towards a sleek black car parked at the end of the street. His face is hidden in shadow, as if he loathes walking on the same earth as the rest, preferring instead to glide along a red carpet.
He discards his shirt carelessly, tossing it onto one of the men accompanying him. As the car roars to life, Hector leans back in the seat, his mind seemingly elsewhere, as the cityscape looms in the distance. The towering buildings of the city center rise up before him, a stark contrast to Aurora's quiet neighborhood, which is a serene place with little more than middle-income families living there. It feels worlds apart from the bustling metropolis.
The city hums around him, but Hector's thoughts are fixed on the upcoming ordeal. His tone, when he speaks, is filled with disdain. "To think I have to participate in this nonsense before the wedding... Truly, I am Hector. How can I stoop to this level?" His voice seethes with contempt. "That fool was glaring at me with all her mental strength... Ah, I should have just killed her... Who does she think she is to raise her eyes to me?"
As he speaks, Hector changes into a black outfit that screams of high-end luxury, fitting of his arrogance. The man beside him, who seems more like a personal bodyguard than anything else, listens quietly. He's dressed in a plain gray suit, his features sharp, with fair skin, black hair, and piercing eyes. He seems slightly shorter than Hector, but his presence is just as commanding.
"No worries... It's just a few days," the guard says, his voice calm but firm. "You truly must prepare to ascend your father's throne..."
Hector gives him a sharp look. "Lucas... I know that all too well."